Wolf's Mate
by FictionAficionado
Summary: Years later, the hunt for horcruxes continues as Voldemort strengthens his hold on wizarding society. When his men capture Harry Potter's best friend, he doesn't think twice before throwing the mudblood to his wolves. An unlikely ally emerges, and to escape her captors Hermione must accept help from the creature who raped and impregnated her. [Werewolf AU]
1. Chapter 1

AN: If you were previously following this fic and are wondering why it disappeared from FFN or why I started posting again... Well, I deleted this fic at the start of April as I was growing demotivated by the poor response from readers on this site (157,000 Views and 385 Reviews at the time of deletion). Decided to start posting again because for years I've visited FFN as a reader and it just feels wrong to post elsewhere but not here.

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**WARNING**

Story contains mature content unsuitable for young readers. Story also contains dark themes and disturbing content that can be upsetting to adult readers, including:

Rape/Non-con Elements, Dubious Consent, Forced Pregnancy, Wolf Sex, Descriptions of Violence and DRAMIONE.

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**Chapter 1**

Hermione strained her ears to pick up on the conversation taking place in the corner of the dimly lit room. Doing so made it easier to ignore the way her bare breasts jiggled with every clumsy step forward, though it did nothing to distract from the menacing presence of the wands pressed against her neck and spine.

To formulate an escape plan, she had to figure out where she was being held and what they planned to do with her. Ever since her capture the previous night, other than insulting her, the Death Eaters had dropped no clues of what was to happen to her. She had been prepared to be tortured for information or killed on the spot, yet to her great confusion, neither one of those things had taken place.

As the Death Eaters wore masks at all times, none of the masks known to her, Hermione failed to identify any of her captors. Until now that is, for there was no mistaking the hulking form of Greyback as he stood deep in conversation with an unknown male in one corner of the room she had been forced to march into at wandpoint.

"Is that her? She smells delicious."

"They've fed the Mudblood a variant of the Fero—potent stuff, stronger than the usual, strong enough to make a witch's womb ready for our seed."

"Don't know if there's any truth to that claim but I can tell we'll have our hands full tonight keeping the pack in check. The way she smells, every unmated wolf, and some mated ones too, are gonna claw out their own skin for a chance to knot with her."

"That's the point. The Dark Lord wants us to use her to birth a new line of soldiers for his army—"

Hermione's blood ran cold, recalling the potion shoved down her throat earlier that day. Her captors had distracted her by stripping off her clothes to inspect her body for defects before feeding her the potion. At the time, she had not worried about its purpose as it did not appear to be Veritaserum or anything else that could prove potentially dangerous to the Order or her. If anything, the colour and odour had resembled a variety of health potions.

"Our Lord sends a gift for his loyal dogs," said one of the five Death Eaters holding their wand aimed at Hermione. His comrades must have found his statement particularly witty as they all snickered despite the soft growls emanating from the other side of the room. Another one of them roughly shoved her forward so she landed inelegantly in a heap on the stone floor.

"Shouldn't a gift come wrapped?" asked the unknown man, taking in her naked state as he stepped away from Greyback and stalked towards her.

"Easy Gunnolf, they probably just wanted to save us some time; they know the Mudblood's here so my wolves can breed her and if she can't get pregnant she'll do as a snack. Fucking or feeding, clothes would be useless either way."

Even though he was talking about her, it was the Death Eaters who shuddered at the sight of Greyback's toothy grin.

"Now, why don't you fellas return to serve at the feet of our Lord? Wouldn't want my wolves showing up and mistaking you for dinner now, would you?"

Hermione would have laughed at the way the Death Eaters scrambled to exit the room if not for their reason for doing so.

"Gunnolf, go check on the pack. I can sense their excitement over discovering a bitch in heat so close to them. I'll join you in a moment."

Hermione tried to see where the other man, Gunnolf, was headed but her head was yanked painfully in the other direction, accompanied by a stinging in her scalp. She didn't need to open her eyes to know it was Greyback manhandling her.

"I don't particularly care for Mudbloods, but I hear you're cleverer than others. So listen to me, and listen well. You're going to live here and let my wolves fuck their cubs into you. When you give birth to a litter, we'll give you replenishing potions so you're ready to produce another litter for us. This is your life now. I suggest you quickly get used to it. The wizards said the potion they gave you will have you nice and wet, so you may actually enjoy this. But if you try to be clever or use magic on us in anyway, we'll skip the potions and fuck you raw while we eat you."

Greyback effortlessly picked her up and tossed her on one of the rickety old beds lined against one wall of the room. Due to the poor lighting, she had failed to notice them when she was first brought in. A howl from somewhere in the house sent a shiver up her spine. At first, she thought it was caused by fear, but a second howl had her thighs slick with her arousal.

Hermione struggled to keep her wits about her and listen to the words coming out of Greyback's mouth, but all she could focus on was the ache in her pussy and the moisture pooling between her thighs. Distracted by it, she didn't notice Greyback leave, locking the door behind him. In the haze of her heat, she drew herself up onto her knees, legs spread, back arched to present her cunt. Even with a wand, she was no match for the physical strength of a werewolf and now, lying here exposed, wandless and in heat—her scent driving the werewolf into a mating frenzy—the only way for her to survive would be to submit to the wolf's desires.

A different door than the one she used to enter slammed open behind her. She froze, heart racing in anticipation and fear. There were sounds of panting and claws clacking on the stone floor as the wolf made his way to her.

Hermione jumped when a clawed hand grabbed her thigh. Unceremoniously, the wolf thrust his tapered cock into her slick pussy and wasting no time, he set a hard pace.

Unable to handle the force of the assault, Hermione's elbows gave out. Her chest hit the mattress, causing her nipples to sting as they grazed against the worn-out fabric, though it took only a moment for them to tighten and for pleasure to course though them all the way down to her toes.

She didn't notice the swelling at the base of the wolf's cock until it started to catch on her entrance. It forced her passage wider and wider with no regard for the limits of her body. Hermione was no virgin since Ron had finally recognised she was a girl. However, the one time they did have sex had involved a lot of kissing and petting, with Ron coming almost as soon as he entered her. Desperate to come herself, after their extended foreplay, she had used her fingers to stimulate herself to a climax—something Ron had taken as a personal insult at the time. Even though she had not cared, he had been too embarrassed about his performance to repeat it with her again.

Her body wasn't used to the kind of abuse being heaped on it now. As the knot grew too wide to go in, the wolf gave one last vicious thrust of his hips and forced it inside Hermione, collapsing on top of her. His hips jerked while he continued to fill her womb to bursting, the knot ensuring every drop of his come lay trapped inside her.

Hermione wept in frustration, bucking her hips to create some friction, her body still flush and aching in need as she had not reached completion. The wolf snarled and placed its teeth on her neck. Hermione held still as he drenched her insides with come, causing her to whimper with unfulfilled need.

When the knot finally began to shrink, the wolf pulled out, leaving a trail of his semen behind it. His claws on Hermione's thighs forced her backwards, feet and knees hitting the floor, so she was bent over the edge of the bed. The wolf pushed her chest flush to the bed, brought her arse as high up as it would go, and fucked back into her. He pulled almost all the way out at the end of every thrust—the tip of his tapered prick bumping against her clit—only to plunge back in until he was balls deep again.

Hermione's body lit up with sensation, her cunt grasping after the wolf's cock, desperate to be filled to bursting. The wolf's movements grew frantic as he attempted to push his knot all the way in again. She eagerly rubbed her clit, having no need to move otherwise as the wolf's frenzied thrusts now gave her all the friction she needed. His knot brushed against something inside her, causing her body to tighten and her back to arch before she came all over the wolf's cock.

The wolf didn't stop rutting even after he howled his completion. He swivelled his hips so the base of his knot pressed against her clit. Hermione threw her head back, her orgasm once again building. Without a thought, she squeezed her inner walls as hard as she could while rubbing slow circles on her nub. By then the knot had deflated just enough for the wolf to resume fucking in and out of her abused cunt, come squirting out of it.

She was so lost to the potion-induced need burning through her veins she failed to notice that the moon had set and the wolf had shifted into a man. It didn't register in her mind that instead of the claws biting into her hips, she was being held by hands. Not even when one of those hands reached under her to pull her up, nor when it accidentally brushed against her nipples causing her to shudder.

The werewolf groaned and reached to play with her sensitive nipples. He grabbed one nipple, twisting and teasing it in a manner that had pleasure shooting down to her core; her muscles clenched at his knot locking them together again. He used both hands to draw her into his lap with her back pressed to his chest and his mouth close to her ear. His every breath, every grunt teased the sensitive skin of her neck.

He continued to tease her nipples making her shiver in his arms and reflexively squeeze his cock, which in turn made him shudder. "Mine," he growled in her ears and pushed her down into the mattress again.

Through the daze of her orgasms, she was finally able to discern he was grunting the same word over and over. She whimpered. He wasn't just fucking her. He was laying his claim on her, both as a wolf and as a man. With her hands under her, Hermione could feel her stomach bloating with the copious amounts of ejaculate stuffed inside her.

The creature showed no signs of stopping, pausing only to flip her away from the growing wet spot. An exhausted Hermione, for her part, could only lie on her back and allow the werewolf to raise her legs so he could fuck her more deeply, letting out a whine if he pulled his cock out of her.

As it grew brighter outside, the length of time they stayed knotted together grew shorter. The werewolf, though, seemed unbothered by it. He fucked her with wild abandon any time the knot shrank enough to allow movement and stopped only when he was certain he had bred her.

Before Hermione finally lost consciousness, she thought she heard a familiar voice say, "I'm so sorry, Granger."


	2. Chapter 2

Hermione woke up to an unbearable ache between her legs. She was alone in bed. A beam of light filtering in from one of the windows caught in her eyes, blinding her momentarily before she could properly view her surroundings. As far as she could tell, she was still in the same room as last night. Now, in daylight, she could see the entire room more clearly. It was mostly empty; a few beds lined against one wall, a small table nestled in one corner, and a large barrel in another. The room had a vaulted ceiling with all the windows far too high to climb out even if she somehow managed to stack every piece of furniture one on top of the other.

She did not know where she was being held. The Death Eaters had portkeyed her in so she did not get a look at the exteriors, but based on what little she had seen and the grey stone surrounding her, she was undoubtedly in an old castle or something similar.

Since Greyback was around, she was most likely in the northern parts of England. In recent years, there were several reports of Greyback running wild in the area, creating a new army of werewolf soldiers for the Dark Lord, but never having encountered such an army, the Order had chalked it down to being a baseless rumour.

Hermione rolled over to get out of bed. She groaned. Her entire body felt sluggish and heavy while her pussy felt raw. There was semen and blood dried on her inner thighs. Disgusted by the sight, she fought the urge to throw up. As soldiers, Hermione and the rest of the witches in the Order were aware that the enemy might violate them in order to break them. Still, none of her training had prepared her to deal with being a willing participant in her own rape while she was fucked raw by a beast.

Shoving those unhelpful thoughts to the back of her mind, she focused on the room instead. There were three doors in all. Before giving any of them a try, she wanted to see if there was anything useful to be found inside the room. She moved to inspect the object closest to her, a table, which plain as it was could not have concealed anything. Propped on the side, it may have made for a decent shield if she wasn't up against wizards and werewolves.

Bracing herself against the wall, Hermione walked to the barrel. Thankfully, it held water. There was also a small basin and a washcloth placed on the half-open lid. She used the basin to scoop out some water, sniffed it to make sure it wasn't dosed with anything dangerous, then proceeded to drink the water. She was hungry, yes, but even more thirsty. Except for the potion, she was not given anything to eat or drink since being taken captive nearly two days ago.

Two days ago, Ginny and Hermione were out on a mission to confirm the possible location of one of Voldemort's horcruxes. They did not know it at the time, but they had essentially walked into a trap. Set by whom, was yet to be determined; the group of Death Eaters had appeared equally surprised to encounter such high value targets as Ginny and herself.

_Ginny, Godric!_ How could she have been so selfish as to forget about Ginny?

She had not seen her friend or heard any of her captors mention Ginny, which Hermione hoped meant the fiery witch managed to escape during their melee with the Death Eaters. It would be terrible if Ginny were also captured. In Hermione's absence, Harry was likely to attempt a daring rescue plan that would undeniably put his own life in jeopardy. She needed to escape before her best friend did something extremely stupid.

Thirst quenched, Hermione moved on to the task of cleaning herself. She felt so dirty, but her muscles currently lacked the strength needed to climb into the barrel of water like she wanted to. She did the next best thing. Refilling the basin, she plunged the washcloth into the water and used it to wipe away evidence of the previous night from her body, even as she had repeated flashbacks of it. She rubbed her skin until it turned red and began to sting. It didn't help her feel any cleaner.

She tossed the washcloth aside and returned to exploring the room. In her state of exhaustion, it took a great effort to move around and for all her troubles Hermione found nothing she could wield as a weapon. However, she did find some discarded rags, which she was able to fashion into a shift to cover her nudity.

One by one, Hermione checked each of the doors and found them all locked. She tried to cast wandless unlocking charms, but, unlike Harry, she was never particularly good at those to start with, so now, in her exhausted state, they were wholly useless. Hermione believed her wand wasn't just a conduit for her magic; it was an extension of herself. She felt its absence in a way one might miss an absent limb. As part of their training, Harry had insisted they learn to fight with alternate wands. Should their own be destroyed on the battlefield they could not afford to waste precious seconds trying to become accustomed to a new wand. Unlike other members of the Order, Hermione struggled when using a different wand, even ones that had never belonged to anyone. She hoped her captors were holding on to it, and had not already destroyed her wand.

As there was nothing else to do and she was too tired to think of a plan, Hermione figured she might as well rest and recover her strength. She ignored the bed she woke up in since its smell served a reminder of what had gone on there. She climbed on top of one of the other empty beds and curling over the mattress, almost instantly she fell asleep.

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The wolf watched the witch passed out on the bed. He could tell from her scent that her sleep was the result of the mysterious new potion she was fed and not exhaustion from their coupling last night. He had remained in an excited state all day long reliving their activities from the previous night in vivid details. When he sniffed at her intimate parts, he was disappointed to discover she had washed his scent off her. He preferred her sweet scent masked by his own as it would turn the others off her.

He ran his muzzle up and down her legs, and pushed them far enough apart to let him step between them. She was still asleep when he began to greedily lick at her nether lips to prepare her for the invasion. With the fertility potion running in her system, it took only a few moments for her to go from bone-dry to aroused.

Finding her ready enough, he mounted her, his mouth falling open at the pleasurable sensation of her cunt squeezing his cock. Thanks to the build-up all day, he'd barely entered her and already his balls were tingling, ready to release his seed into the fertile womb of the witch beneath them. Despite feeling confident she was already carrying his pup, he fucked her like he was trying to get her up the duff. The older wolves had explained that due to their biological differences, it was impossible for a witch to carry his pups to term. Even with the new potion, they said it would take several couplings for his seed to take root in the witch's womb.

His balls began to tighten and draw up and out of his sheath, sending bursts of pleasure through him as his knot began to catch on her cunt. He pushed her legs further apart allowing him to reach even deeper inside her. His hips jerked as his knot grew, making it harder and harder to force it past the tight, welcoming lips of her cunt.

The wolf threw his head back in contentment as he came, his knot rapidly expanding until it was too large to pull out of her. Her tight channel pulsed around his cock made him come again, but even as his orgasm crashed over him in waves, he made sure to swivel his hips to try to force his seed as deep inside her as it would go.

The ever-constant heat in the pit of his stomach roared back to life as his knot shrank. His cock, still out of its sheath, remained buried in her. As she began to stir and slowly grow conscious, he fucked her harder the second time, his grunting timed to the vulgar sounds of their skin smacking together. He pulled her close so he could fondle her breasts, knowing from last night it was something she enjoyed, and was immediately rewarded with the sound of her soft sleepy moans of pleasure.

As his knot swelled again, he wondered if Fenrir would let him continue fucking her, once her pregnancy was confirmed. Even though his human self had a complicated history with this witch and misgivings about taking her in such a manner, the wolf didn't care beyond satisfying its physical needs. He could just imagine fucking her after she birthed the litter, sucking her milk fattened tits while he fucked another litter into her. The wolf howled, painting her insides with his seed to the mental image of her constantly swollen with his pups.

He quickly knotted with her a third time, hips stuttering as he realised he was filling her up so much her stomach was bloating. It was a good thing the potion made her strong enough to take his assault, even if it left her barely conscious. He pressed himself even closer to her and came once more. Even though the female was not a wolf, she smelled and tasted so right to him, he was certain that the next time he was sent to her, he would need no potion to urge him on.


	3. Chapter 3

"How am I getting fat?" Hermione wondered out loud, rubbing her bulging tummy. "All I am given to eat is this horrible gruel." Her nose crinkled in disgust as she raised a spoonful of the offending meal and let it drop back into the bowl. "And, I am barely able to keep down whatever little I eat so I don't understand this—" She pointed to her exposed tummy.

Merlin alone knew if the unseasonal heat wave was of magical origin or a natural phenomenon, but a far as she could tell she appeared to be the only one affected by the rise in temperature. The last few days found her feeling hotter than usual, waking up sweaty in the middle of the night despite it being winter. In order to stay cool, she had taken to wearing minimum clothing and leaving her belly exposed while within her quarters.

_Her quarters!_ Clearly, she had been held captive for far too long for her to have grown this comfortable with her situation. Then again, her captivity was turning out far better than anyone would have imagined in the current environment.

In recent years, with numerous Death Eaters rising to prominent ranks within wizarding society, and the Ministry reduced to being a puppet government for Voldemort, the Death Eaters could openly conduct their operations. In contrast, the Order of the Phoenix had grown weaker in strength and spirit, crippled first by the death of Albus Dumbledore back in her sixth year, and later by the execution of their only spy to have ever successfully breached Voldemort's inner circle, Severus Snape.

Concern for their safety had driven Order members into hiding some years ago. Their plan was to first, find and destroy every fractured piece of Voldemort's soul, after which Harry could finally confront the evil bastard and put an end to him for good. Unfortunately, they had underestimated Voldemort's cunning. Five years of a life spent in hiding later, they were still hunting for his horcruxes. With a limited number of rapidly dwindling resources, they could no longer afford to engage in open battle with the growing Death Eater army. Forced to operate from the shadows, they occasionally got into skirmishes with lower-ranking Death Eaters, but as far as missions went, they had only one: search and destroy every one of Voldemort's horcruxes.

In hindsight, it was a poor long-term strategy on their part. Their withdrawal from the public eye made it easier for The Daily Prophet, now nothing but a propaganda machine for Voldemort's cause, to turn public opinion against the Order with their slanted reporting. The Order went from being respected as the resistance, to being ignored as some fringe group, and finally feared as a terrorist organisation.

As Voldemort's power and influence within wizarding society grew, so did the cruelty of his followers in an effort to decimate the Order. Punishment for captured members was determined by the status of their blood. Halfbloods were immediately branded as slaves and used for manual tasks otherwise performed by house-elves. Muggleborns were, almost always, Avadaed on the spot, unless they were prominent figures, well known for opposing Voldemort, in which case they were publically executed using Muggle methods. In rare instances, if a Muggleborn was believed to have some value, they were spared and branded as a slave instead.

Yet, it was the Pureblood members of the Order who suffered the worst degradation. Deemed too superior to be treated as house-elves, they were used for entertainment instead; even male members were not spared the violence and humiliation of rape. There were only whispered rumours of what went on during the Death Eater revels, but having seen her share of dead bodies belonging to Order members or their loved ones, Hermione had some inkling of how the Death Eaters were dehumanising their victims. She was fortunate that as a Muggleborn, Voldemort had deemed her unworthy to even serve as a cum-bucket for one of his Purebloods, instead choosing to throw her to the wolves, quite literally.

Because of her long time relationship with Remus Lupin, first as his student and later as fellow member of the Order, Hermione did not harbour the same prejudices against werewolves as some wizards and witches did. Neither was she naive enough to think the werewolves holding her captive possessed the same gentle spirit and noble qualities as her former Defence professor. Yet, to her great astonishment, they were treating her far better than anything she could have hoped for.

Yes, she had been raped during her first couple of days in this place, but she was not brutalised or injured in any way. Thankfully, the potion they fed her not only made her compliant during the act, but also left her memories of those times far too hazy to be traumatised by reliving them in the aftermath. She would have most likely ended up dead or wishing she was, if she had fought or resisted in any way—which she would have, were it not for the potion in her system.

She could not clearly recall all that had taken place during her first few days in Bleidd Castle, the name of the place she was being held at. She knew she was raped more than once by a large white wolf, but trying to remember the details was like trying to piece together the fragments from a dream after you have woken up. The first clear memory she had of this place was of the time she was visited by a group of werewolves. They inspected her in a manner, which, while odd, was in no way threatening. At the conclusion of the meeting, she was moved to her current quarters, for which she was grateful. The new room had an attached lavatory so she did not have to live with the sight and stench of her own waste.

Wolves could not reproduce with humans; this was basic biology everyone was aware of. Tonks conceiving Remus's child was an exception—not the rule—made possible due to Tonks' unique ability, as a metamorphmagus, to transform into any being at will. Hermione assumed her captors had finally figured out the pointlessness of trying to get a wolf to impregnate her ...or they found her too sick or weak for the task, because _the wolf _did not visit her again. Instead, they fed her a constant diet of health potions and gruel. In general, they treated her less like a prisoner and more like a high-value hostage, most likely intending to exploit her connection to Harry sometime in the future. Hermione was left her to her own devices in her room, where the worst thing she suffered was boredom, hence her latest weak attempt at making conversation with the omega in her room.

"I wish you'd say something, it's not like you'll be slipping me any vital information by chatting about how bloated I look." She attempted to make the omega smile by puffing out her cheeks.

The omega turned her back on Hermione's antics and went about the task of collecting her dirty laundry and replacing it with fresh ones. This was a part of Hermione's new routine. Every day some female omega came into her room to give her a clean set of clothes, her potions and her meals. The werewolves in Bleidd Castle were ferocious-looking beings even in their human form, nothing like Remus, but this particular omega had been to her room a few times before—she looked like a teenager, definitely younger than the other werewolves, with a friendlier looking face—and Hermione was terribly bored. While she appreciated the view, there was only so much time she could spend admiring the unchanging scenery.

"Okay fine, can you at least tell me if your name is Zoey?" asked Hermione, dropping the spoon into the, now empty, bowl she stood up. "I heard the others call you that."

The omega looked at her with wide-eyed panic. Hermione would have laughed out loud, except she was suddenly overcome with the distinct urge to vomit. Rushing to the lavatory, she made it in time to throw up the gruel she finished eating only minutes ago. The omega must have heard her retching and followed her into the bathroom because she stood there staring at her in indecision.

"Ugh!" Hermione groaned. "I think I'm sick. I have to be! I'm hot all the time. I can't stop throwing up whatever I eat." She was being cranky and whiny, she knew, but could not stop herself anyhow.

She raised herself from her position on the floor and washed her mouth in the sink. She made it a point to splash water on her face as well as the back of her neck, not caring that she was getting her shirt wet in the process. She was so hot and the cold water felt divine against her skin.

"Come on," said the omega. "Let's go for a walk. Fresh air may do you some good."

Hermione was allowed the freedom to walk around the inner bailey of the castle at least once a day for exercise. Even though she was always accompanied by at least one werewolf, and the stone wall running the perimeter served to remind her of her captivity, it was by far the highlight of her day. Being outside not only provided her respite from the tediousness of being stuck in her room with nothing to do, but being outside also meant she got to satisfy her curiosity by observing the other residents of the castle as they went about their daily business.

She smiled in gratitude to the omega, who turned on a heel and walked away from her. Well, she would at least get to leave her quarters for a second time in the same day, so Hermione ignored the snub and eagerly followed the omega out.

Minutes later, they were navigating the corridors leading to the bailey when she sensed Malfoy watching her, again. With the exception of Greyback, Malfoy's was the only other recognisable face in the castle. Hermione had not seen him since their Hogwarts days, so it would be an understatement to say she was shocked to see the Pureblood heir of the Malfoy family, blood-supremacist and all around bigot, living in close quarters with werewolves. Unlike her, Malfoy clearly was no captive and as far as she had seen, there were no other Death Eaters within Bleidd Castle. What kind of mission was Malfoy assigned that he was required to stay in the werewolf stronghold?

There was something distinctly different about Malfoy, not just the fact that he was a full-grown man now. His overall demeanour was altered from before. For one, his face did not twist into the familiar sneer he had reserved for Hermione and her friends throughout their school years. Secondly, he was behaving with far more maturity than she had come to expect of him. While she was caught off guard the first time she spotted his unmistakable platinum hair, he was clearly aware of her presence in the castle for he went about his business like it was perfectly normal to find her living in Bleidd Castle. He did not try to attack her, or goad her into a fight, or even call her a Mudblood,as he was so fond of doing in the past.

Lastly, and strangest of all, there was the staring. Anytime she noticed Malfoy, she would catch him staring at her. Hermione did not know if it was deliberately so, but, no matter the time of day, Malfoy was never too far from her anytime she left her room. While he made no attempt to approach or talk to her, and in general avoided eye contact with her, inexplicably it always felt like his eyes were tracking her every move. Based on their past, the only expressions she could recognise on his face were of anger and disgust; she could not read all these new emotions flashing across Malfoy's face when he looked at her. Sometimes the look he gave her was so intense she would feel overcome by a deep desire to bare her neck to him. More than anything else, this odd impulse left her feeling unsettled over his presence at Bleidd.

Hermione tried to stick close to Zoey and ignore the way Malfoy's eyes were glued to her exposed stomach; in her eagerness to leave her room, she had forgotten to fix herself first. Suddenly aware now, her fingers itched to unknot her shirt and hide her belly from his unnerving gaze. Fighting the urge, she marched on ahead with a huff and a tilt of her chin, doing her best to ignore the blond.

She'd be damned, Hermione told herself, if she gave the git the satisfaction of thinking he could intimidate her in this manner.


	4. Chapter 4

Hermione stood still, doing her best to maintain an uninterested expression on her face and ignore the monster standing in the dungeon cell with her. Not even an hour ago, she had been enjoying an afternoon nap in her room, when suddenly she was shaken awake and rushed out of the room by one of the female werewolves, who urged her to hurry along. When they reached their destination, the castle dungeon, she was still given no explanation as she was made to sit on the floor of a cell before being locked in. Overwhelmed by the stench of blood and feculence thick in the air, she stayed frozen in place, wondering about the sudden turn of events.

She could not have been in there more than a couple of minutes before the cell door flung open and Voldemort himself walked in. He looked pleased as he took in her position on the floor as well as her dismal surroundings. The arrogant look he wore propelled her to finally stand up. She could not fight him but she wasn't going to sit there in the filth and let him look down on her.

"So, do you like what I've done?" Voldemort asked with a smile, his nose-less face looking more disturbing than usual; the poor lighting in the cell didn't do him any favours either. He made a great show of rolling a vial of potion between his fingers. Hermione squinted to get a better look. It looked familiar, though definitely not one of the potions she had studied in school. "Ah, but you probably have no idea what I'm talking about, right?" he asked in a condescending tone. "It's my solution to the low birth rates and shrinking Pureblood population."

From the, what could only be described smug, look on Voldemort's face she had a growing sense of foreboding over whatever it was he had accomplished. She wasn't even aware there was a problem with the birth rate. They were living in a period of great strife, if not outright war, it was only natural for their numbers to dwindle. She doubted many people were feeling up to the task of having children while worrying about their survival.

"The Purebloods were already a small group and a declining growth rate is grounds for concern we may soon cease to exist altogether—"

Hermione repressed a snort at Voldemort's continued pretence of being a Pureblood when, thanks to a brilliant effort on Luna's part, most of England now knew the story of Tom Riddle. Perceptive witch that she was, Luna believed the Order needed to do something to counter the anti-Order propaganda being dished out by the Prophet. At great personal risk, Luna, along with a handful of others, effectively hijacked control of The Daily Prophet for long enough to print Riddle's story and mail it to the Prophet's readership using the paper's own owl post service. Even though the Prophet printed out a special edition the very same day decrying the story and calling it yet another act of terrorism by the rogue group, The Order of the Phoenix, the damage was done. People began to question Voldemort's authority to lead the Pureblood cause, if not question the ideology of blood supremacy itself.

"It was always the prime motivation for the policy of tolerance adopted by the Ministry and others for so long. Instead of focusing on growing our numbers by improving the birth rate, they threw open the doors to our world, allowing an influx of inferior creatures like your kind. But, what did we gain from this _assimilation_, apart from an erosion of our culture?" asked Voldemort spreading his hands dramatically. "The consequence of sanctioning this invasion of our society by magic-stealing beings like yourself—was Purebloods producing even fewer children and more squibs."

Although her Muggle education was limited to her pre-Hogwarts years and an odd class or two during school breaks, Hermione knew enough about genetics to see how the practice of inbreeding followed by the Purebloods would have led to problems due to their limited genetic diversity. It made more sense to expand their gene pool by introducing new bloodlines. It explained why many in wizarding society superficially accepted Muggleborns even if they were secretly prejudiced against them; it was a matter of their survival. Of course, Voldemort was ignoring the actual problem of inbreeding and choosing to scapegoat the Muggleborns instead.

"Naturally, I went to the heart of the matter. I've had one of my most _loyal _followers work tirelessly for years to create a potion to improve fertility and ensure successful births... Too bad he didn't live long enough to see the improvements I made to his potion."

Hermione did not miss Voldemort's taunting reference to Severus. When the old Potionmaster's secret was found out, Voldemort made quite the example out of him for the rest of the Death Eaters—if his mutilated corpse was anything to go by. The Order received a deadly blow that day, losing their only man on the inside. While there were those who admired Severus for being one of the best potioneers of their times, and others who respected the man for the dangerous, albeit crucial, role he played as their spy, yet it was Harry who was most affected by the death of their former Potions professor. Harry, who had come to see Severus as a hero after learning of all of his sacrifices, thanks to a pensieve and several vials of Albus Dumbledore's memories, felt deeply the loss of yet another decent soul in the fight against Voldemort. Despite his surly nature, Severus was a good man at his core, genuinely wishing to bring an end to Voldemort's reign. It made her heart ache, knowing Voldemort had in all likelihood corrupted whatever it was Severus created.

"With this potion, I can begin the production of the next generation of my soldiers ready to conquer the world for me. You and the rest of your little group of friends in the Order fail to grasp the concept of immortality. You don't realise that as an immortal I have all the time in the world. I could do nothing and still emerge victorious. I just need to wait till each one of you insignificant insects dies and that will be the end of the resistance," Voldemort, maliciously hissed out the words. "But, long after you all are gone, I'll still be here. I'll be here for _eternity_. Unlike you, I am not racing against the clock to make my vision a reality. Be it ten months or ten years from now, I _will_ rule the world."

If Harry were here, he'd valiantly shout, so long as there were tyrants like Voldemort there would always be those who would resist; but Hermione lacked her best friend's optimism. She knew her history well enough to remember humans were adept at wilfully ignoring evil. Just as the Germans pretended to be unaware of the atrocities committed by the Nazis, so too would their society turn a blind eye to Voldemort's evil agenda while his ever-growing army ensured the normalisation of his oppressive regime. She feared his plans gaining critical mass; if the Order failed to turn the tide in their favour now Voldemort would succeed in his grandiose ambitions.

"However, let no one say that the Dark Lord is not generous. Not only did I spare your worthless life, Mudblood, I chose you to be the first to test my incredible potion. You should feel honoured to know it was I, Lord Voldemort, who made your filthy womb fit to carry the seed of my follower."

The sinister and knowing manner in which he stared at her belly told Hermione all she needed to know. Sick with the realisation, and not just hormones this time, she threw up right there, hoping there was enough projectile to land some on Voldemort.

Merlin! Her chest heaved as the information sunk in. She was pregnant.

* * *

"I knew just those watery meals could not be responsible for this—" Hermione pointed to her stomach. "Did you know?" she asked Zoey, who arrived immediately after Voldemort's hasty departure, to walk her back to her quarters.

"Of course, you knew... You all knew." For the first time she understood why the werewolves were treating her as well as they were.

_Pregnant._

She had to repeat the word over and over in her head to convince herself this was truly happening. She was pregnant. Because of Voldemort, and his Death Eaters and werewolves, she was going to become a mother.

_Godric, save me, _she cried out, though in her panicked state the words didn't escape her lips.

She wasn't ready to be a mother. There was a war. Maybe after this was all over, she could think about starting a family; not now, not when Harry still needed her. She needed to get back to the Order, not become a mother.

How was she ever going to convince Ron to reconsider a relationship with her if she had someone else's child? She wanted another shot with Ron once the damned war was over. She did not want to have someone else's child, especially since the father of said child had raped her.

_The father... _

_It had to be the white wolf, right?_

She didn't remember being _visited_ by anyone other than the big white wolf. While there may have been others who raped her, she did not recall anyone other than the big white wolf.

So, who was the white wolf? Walking back to her quarters she watched the faces of every male she passed by, wondering which of them could be the father of her child.

As usual, Malfoy was around, watching her, only he looked... _concerned? _...for _her? _

Questions began to rush through her head all at once. Why would Malfoy feel concern for her? What was Malfoy even doing here? Why was he living with the werewolves like he was one of them, unless...

_No!_

Of course, Malfoy was a werewolf. He had to be! In all her time at Bleidd Castle, which was well over a month now, the werewolves didn't bristle at his presence like they did with her or any other outsider or visiting Death Eater. Malfoy was a werewolf—that is why he was so large now. It wasn't just because he grew up. He was a werewolf. She turned to get a better look at him, only to find him staring right back at her. For the first time, looking into his eyes, she thought she could recognise one of his usually indecipherable expressions.

_Remorse._

From somewhere within her, the memory of words whispered to her in a dream bubbled to the surface

_I'm so sorry, Granger. _

Malfoy was a wolf ...and his hair, his hair was the same shade as the fur of _the white wolf_. Gods, she was going to be sick all over again.

Leaning against the wall for support, she dry heaved; there was nothing left in her stomach to throw up.

_I'm so sorry, Granger. _The voice had sounded familiar, but she had been too drugged to recognise it then. 

Malfoy was **the wolf**. Malfoy had raped her. Draco Malfoy had turned into a wolf and raped her ...and now, now, she was pregnant, carrying his child.

Hermione grew dizzy with everything she was coming to realise all at once. She squeezed her eyes shut tight and focused on steadying her erratic breathing—she could not though, not when she could still feel his eyes on her.

Why wasn't he taunting her? Why wasn't he boasting about how he'd got the worst kind of revenge on her? Could it be that he regretted his actions?

_I'm so sorry, Granger_, the wolf-turned-man had whispered to her after he was done; she remembered now.

But why was he always there... following her, watching her? Why did he look at her with such intensity at times? _Merlin_, she could feel his gaze burning the back of her neck making her itch with the need to pull down the neckline of her blouse and expose her neck to him.

_I need to get away from him. _

Hermione dreaded what she would end up doing if she were around Malfoy much longer. Overtaking Zoey, she rushed back to her quarters and ran straight into the bathroom to douse herself with cold water.

* * *

AN: Poor Hermione's clearly suffering from 'baby brain' which is why it took her longer than you to figure out that she's pregnant. Also humans and wolves can't even mate, let alone produce children, so there was no need for her to suspect.


	5. Chapter 5

Draco's eyes glazed over in pleasure, oblivious to who his partner was. Lost as he was in the moment, all he knew was how fantastic her cunt felt squeezing his wolf cock. She was so wet, so eager for him. Truthfully, though, he didn't really want her. He had hoped to be with someone else, he was even willing to fight the rest of the wolves for it, like he had last time, but Fenrir gave him no choice in the matter.

"I got a treat for you, lad," Fenrir had said to Draco, referring to the whimpering female shackled to the wall by a chain. "Bit this one just for you. Thought you deserved something special this time since you did so well last month. You'll be her first in this form," he told Draco excitedly.

The scent of the blood starting to dry around the fresh bite wound, Fenrir had not even bothered to try healing, excited Draco more than the female itself. Yet, thanks to the potion he was given earlier, the tapered tip of his wolf cock was already peeking out when the female finished her extremely painful-looking transformation under the light of the full moon.

"Gave her a spot of the Fero potion before, I did. She'll be nice and moist for you, don't you worry about that."

Almost on cue, the scent of her arousal permeated the air making Draco's cock slide further out with every breath he took. The wolf howled at the sight of the female voluntarily rising on her haunches and presenting her glistening cunt to him. Even if she may later hate him for whatever she would feel driven to do now, it was a small mercy Fenrir had fed her the fertility potion at all. Her lust was probably the only thing helping her withstand the excruciating pain of the bite as well as her first transformation.

"Go on, fuck this bitch, put your pups in her," Fenrir had ordered. Resisting the alpha's order was hard during the best of times and the potion took away any impulse control, reducing him to an animal acting on instinct alone—one of which was following the alpha's command.

Just like every other bitch Fenrir made him fuck during the full moon, this one also didn't smell right; not like _her_. Acting on the potion-induced instinct to fuck, both, wolf and man, whined with frustration when he knotted with the female under him; his seed wouldn't take with this one either, same as all the other bitches he was made to fuck. Quite different from the way it was with _her_.

News of the capture of Potter's Mudblood and her imminent arrival at Bleidd Castle had meant nothing to Draco. Having suffered the ignominy of being turned into a werewolf and cast out of his family, he was no longer considered one of the Purebloods, so why would he care for their cause one way or another? No, he was a werewolf now, free from the crushing expectations that came with being the heir of the illustrious Malfoy family.

Consigned to oblivion, as a wolf he found true acceptance and a sense of community within his pack—people he would have previously considered unsuitable company—than he had ever found in wizarding society and Draco found he liked life outside the spotlight. The night Hermione Granger was brought to Bleidd, Draco had no intention of going anywhere near her, let alone knot with her. However, after overhearing talk of how she was to be used in the latest of the Dark Lord's perverted experiments, Draco believed he had to help her.

Despite the assurances offered to the pack, humans and wolves could not mate and produce offspring. A human would not even survive sex with a _were_ in wolf form as the wolf would see the human as food, not someone to fuck. It would be impossible for a wandless witch to fend off a whole pack of wolves, made extra randy by the new fertility potion Fenrir insisted they use during the full moons so they were lustful enough to breed with any creature put before them. Essentially, Granger was being set up to be savagely raped and eaten by the pack.

Even if they had been on opposing sides, he'd gone to school with Hermione Granger. She wasn't just some faceless stranger, he knew her! He could not sit by and do nothing; far too many people had suffered in the past due to his cowardly actions. Behaviour deemed respectable by the snake he used to be, someone who prioritised self-preservation, was unacceptable to his wolf, who could not abide any display of weakness. Perhaps in giving Granger a fighting chance at survival, he could hope to taste a crumb of redemption.

It was not just concern for Granger's welfare that forced him to act that night. With the rise of the Dark Lord, wizarding society in England instead of improving, the way they had believed it would, had turned into some sort of dystopian shithole Draco was thankful to no longer be a part of. Ever since he was turned into a werewolf and cast out nearly two years ago now, Draco had taken up residence in Bleidd Castle. He liked how life here remained largely untainted by the Dark Lord's rule. Located in the northern countryside of England, Bleidd Castle and the surrounding lands was a kingdom unto themselves where the werewolves lived by their own code of conduct. Then, out of the blue, things began to change.

Roughly five months ago, small groups of Death Eaters began to frequent the castle, with even an occasional visit from the Dark Lord himself. No longer a part of Voldemort's inner circle, it took Draco some time to discover they were running potion trials on werewolves in the dungeons of Bleidd Castle. There was the odd attempt to induce transformations outside of lunar influence, but most of the testing revolved around fertility. It was well known werewolves did not reproduce the way every other creature did. Lycanthropy could only be passed on through the bite of a werewolf. Any children they conceived were either entirely human or pure wolves, with only a fraction of the conceptions ending up in births since female _weres_ almost always miscarried when their bodies changed form during the full moon. Although the pack was unhappy with the goings-on at the castle, the promise of progeny—more than any fear of the Dark Lord—purchased their compliance.

Due to Fenrir's ties to the Dark Lord, pack members were already serving as soldiers in the Nose-less One's army, but despite their association, the pack had never been included in the Death Eater revels or invited to join the Death Eaters in their displays of sadism. In his time as a Death Eater, Draco had seen enough to know that indulging one's worst impulses was a slippery slope that led to the destruction of one's soul. He wished to ensure the pack never crossed that line.

Brawling, especially during the full moon when werewolves were particularly violent, was routine to their kind. Even though its primary purpose was to test their strength against each other to determine their ranking within the hierarchy of the pack, it served other purposes too. It helped them stay fit, expend excessive aggression, settle disagreements and decide winners when competing for the same thing.

When Draco first started trading blows with his wolf brothers that night, he wasn't competing to be the one who got to mate with Granger. No, his plan was to fight off the larger, far stronger wolves capable of easily overpowering her. It was unfair to take advantage of a wandless witch and whatever fault he may have found with Granger, he respected her abilities enough to think she deserved to be bested in a fair duel. Werewolves ultimately respected strength, they weren't petty like humans when defeated, and the Hermione Granger he remembered could pack a mean punch; she could hold her own against one of the smaller wolves. For his plan to work all he needed to do was concede to the weakest wolf, after he was done beating the rest of the competition.

Unfortunately, as Draco discovered, the road to Hades is paved with good intentions. Sometime during the fighting—which he was winning, having successfully forced most of the interested wolves into submission—the direction of the wind changed, bringing with it the most tantalising scent he had ever sniffed, as wolf or man. The scent teased his senses, calling him, demanding he claim what was rightfully his, just waiting to be taken. Taken over by his lupine instinct to breed, he ripped up the rest of the wolves still standing in his way in his eagerness to reach the owner of that scent. The closer he got to her the more eager he grew, her sweet scent, both, exciting and soothing him with promise of the children she would bear him. The wolf howled a warning, heard by all, inside the castle and out. No one was to dare interrupt him once he got started.

He thought about the way he had fucked _her_, as he had taken to referring to Hermione in his head. It was a testament to the efficacy of the Fero potion that not only had she survived the intense mating, more extraordinarily she was pregnant. As much as Draco was disgusted with himself for what he had done, it didn't in any way dampen his desire for her any time he recalled their coupling. Merlin, she had submitted to him so beautifully each time, he was desperate to find out what it would feel like to have it for real without any potions compromising their will.

He wistfully stared out the large windows towards the part of the castle she lay soundly asleep in, wishing once again he were with _her_ instead. The longer he stared, the more he thought he could almost taste the alluring aroma that hung heavy in the air surrounding _her. _His only consolation for leaving her alone was that no other wolf would dare approach her while she carried his seed.

Unbeknownst to _her_, he watched over her every day. While her pregnancy made _her_ precious to the pack, she was still an outsider and their prisoner to boot. It was Draco, whose offspring she carried, who used whatever influence he had within the pack to ensure she had sanitary living conditions and warm meals. He saw to it that her interactions were limited to the more docile female omegas so she would feel less threatened and more at ease with her captivity.

Yet for all he did for her, Draco did not dare to talk to her. His wolf whined, protesting the self-enforced distance, unable to comprehend that she needed time to accept what had happened to her and would need even more time to accept him in any way. They didn't have the best history to start with, and with Draco forcing his child on her, he expected her to at least want to keep her distance if not outright kill him.

Of course, thinking of _her_ made his cock grow hard once more. Draco imagined he was thrusting into the dripping channel of the witch whose belly was already heavy with his child, not the newly turned _were _Fenrir had ordered him to fuck. He closed his eyes, trying to immerse himself further into his fantasy, but the smell was completely wrong, making it hard for him to enjoy her tight wet pussy. Prior to becoming a werewolf, Draco would have had no complaints about the female he was fucking. She was a fit blonde, with round tits and arse, any warm blooded wizard would have been happy to bed. As a wolf, his priorities were different. Sex was part of the drive to procreate and his seed was not meant to be wasted, but he knew from her smell, this female could not give him children.

For hours after moonrise, fuelled by the lust potion, Draco continued to enthusiastically fuck the female, who was part of his pack now—he could already sense the pack-bond forming—until he had satisfied the alpha's command. He pitied the new _were_; once the potion wore out she would not only have to cope with the fact that her previous life and relations were lost to her when Fenrir bit her, but also come to terms with what Draco had done to her. He knew from personal experience how unsettling it was to be free of the effects of the potion and realise one had engaged in non-consensual sex. He also knew from experience that even if Fenrir neglected his duties as her sire and the pack's alpha, the pack itself would take care of her and help her adjust to life as a _were_.

Having executed the alpha's order to a satisfactory degree, Draco was finally able to uncouple himself from the female and go seek help. He left the latest addition to their pack in the care of their mediwitch, Cora, and some of the older females, so they could tend to her injuries after they shifted at dawn. Eventually the pack would huddle around their newest member and welcome her to the fold, for now, they would give her the time and space she needed to come to terms with all that had transpired.

It was close to sunrise when Draco joined other members of the pack for one last run in the woods surrounding Bleidd Castle; they playfully chased each other around and engaged in a friendly brawl before changing back into their human selves. The transformations themselves were a test of power, higher-ranking pack members needing lesser time than the weaker ones. Among them, only the alpha possessed the ability to transform at will, full moon or not. It was an ability, like every other bestowed by nature, to equip the alpha for his role as guardian of the pack.

Fenrir was missing again, which was no surprise. Greyback was absolutely pants when it came to his duties as alpha. It fell to Gunnolf, one of the betas and second in command, to watch over the pack's transformations, guiding the pups and assisting their weaker members.

Transformations completed, while everyone else staggered to the nearby communal area, where they usually slept crowded together after the full moon, Draco excused himself and with great effort dragged his exhausted body to the section of the castle housing _her_. It was only after he reached his usual post outside Hermione's quarters that he slumped against the wall and slid down to the floor where he eventually fell asleep listening through the wall to the faint sound of her soothing heartbeat.


	6. Chapter 6

"Is this normal? This can't be normal—" Hermione pointed to her stomach, the skin stretched taut over a bulge the size of a watermelon. "It's barely two months; my stomach can't be this huge."

Zoey didn't say anything, she never engaged in idle chatter, but after spending time with the girl nearly every day, Hermione thought she could accurately read the young girl's expressions.

"I suppose if there was anything unusual or alarming you lot would have done something about it," Hermione thought out loud.

One moment she was fine, going about her daily one-sided conversation with Zoey, and the next she was crouched low, grabbing her side as an intense pain shot through her stomach.

"Hermione? What is it?" Zoey asked in concern. "What's happening?"

Hermione could only shake her head in response. She was unable to breathe, let alone speak, as the pain radiated from her stomach to the rest of her body. By the time the painful spasm passed, she lay on the ground, on her side, gasping for air.

Zoey scampered out of the room shouting, "Something's wrong." Hermione tried to get up but more pain ripped through her so she lay prone on the floor, holding her belly instead.

From her position on the stone floor, the rapidly approaching footsteps sounded like thunder. She opened her eyes, blinking away the tears gathered, to focus on the person kneeling on the floor beside her.

"What is it, Granger? Did you hurt yourself?" asked Malfoy.

She shook her head, struggling to even suck in air through the sharp pain she was experiencing.

"Can you show me where it hurts?"

She groaned, clutching her stomach tighter in an attempt to ease the painful pressure building up inside.

"Don't just stand there gawking, Zoey," barked Malfoy. "Go fetch Cora already."

Later, once the pain subsided, Hermione would be shocked at what followed. At the time, however, she was in too much agony to comment on Malfoy's unusual behaviour.

He slipped his hands under her shoulders, eased her head gently into his lap and began to stroke her back in a soothing manner.

"Try to relax," he told her. "You probably just pulled a muscle. The mediwitch will be here soon and we'll know what's happening. Till then, just focus on my breathing, okay?" He inhaled deeply through his nose and noisily exhaled through his mouth.

Hermione nodded and copied him. Screwing her eyes tightly shut, Hermione focused on taking deep breaths in sync with Malfoy. When the pain reduced to a dull throb Hermione opened her eyes only to find herself staring into Malfoy's.

Having never been this close to him before, it was the first time she paid attention to his eyes. Shades of grey like wisps of smoke swirling in the air, concealing more than they revealed. What kind of hidden depths would the owner of such eyes possess? She found herself growing curious about this man she never would have thought capable of comforting anyone, least of all her.

He continued to stroke her back with one hand, as he held her in place in his lap with the other, never breaking eye contact.

"I want you to know how sorry I am." The words were whispered so softly she almost didn't hear them.

She stared at him in confusion.

"I was given a potion, Granger. I had no control, I... I could not stop myself," he explained. "We may have been rivals at school and I know I objected to your presence at Hogwarts, but I have never wanted to hurt you like _that_. I would **never** willingly hurt any woman like _that_."

Hermione blinked a few times and once more squeezed her eyes shut, this time in a desperate attempt to tune his words out.

For a moment, she forgot. For a moment, she was safe in his arms. For the briefest of moments, she had felt cared for. Why did he have to ruin it by reminding her? Why did he have to talk about it at all?

She didn't like to think about _it_. She didn't want to think about her rape. Conflicting thoughts about that night made her feel like a mess. The Death Eaters took away her will by giving her a potion, so whatever transpired was rape. Yet, even knowing that her actions were the outcome of the potion, she was filled with a deep sense of shame when she recalled how willing she was that night and the amount of pleasure she had experienced as the wolf filled her with his seed...

...But the shame didn't come from the memory. The source of her shame was the way her breath hitched and her pulse raced with excitement anytime she recalled the memory. It was all too confusing and Hermione did not dare analyse any of it until she was back home, safe with Harry, Ron and the rest of her Order family. Once she was safe again, she would work on processing what Voldemort and his followers had done to her. Until then she needed to pretend the circumstances of her pregnancy were completely normal.

Hermione didn't want Malfoy's apologies, which did nothing except remind her of what had happened. She had spent the last week avoiding looking his way because she didn't want him to say or do anything to confirm her suspicion that he was the creature who bred her. Yet despite her efforts, here he was, confessing to it all the same.

His confession did not console her, far from it. It was upsetting to hear that he had been just as helpless. It was unfair that she didn't get to hate him for what he did to her, but how could she, if he himself was a victim? For the first time, seeing clearly the miserable situation she found herself in she began to weep silently, the tears leaking out of the corner of her eyes in spite of her attempt to hold them in.

"Please don't cry," he pleaded softly, brushing away her tears with the pads of his fingers.

Such gentleness from the man who had raped her broke something within her. A flood of, hitherto suppressed, feelings related to her forced pregnancy rushed through her, causing her to break into sobs and cry inconsolably.

Malfoy lifted her and settled her in his lap so she was resting against his chest with her head tucked under his chin. Probably sensing her need to express the grief she had kept bottled up so far, he did not speak another word, wrapping his arms around her in a hug, he silently rocked her back and forth, as one would an upset child.

By the time the mediwitch finally arrived Hermione was feeling a lot calmer. While she would need time to process what Malfoy had told her, based on his demeanour she did not doubt the sincerity of his words.

"Finally," Malfoy exclaimed to the woman who entered the room, unannounced, with Zoey following closely on her heels.

From her position, curled up as she was within the circle of Malfoy's arms, she could only imagine the sight they made. It was confirmed by the nearly comical way Zoey's eyes widened when she spotted them, yet no one commented on it. Malfoy himself acted like it was perfectly normal for him to be sitting on the floor hugging a prisoner.

"I was beginning to wonder if I was going to have to come fetch you myself." He sounded exasperated, but made no attempt to move her out of his arms.

Going by the stuttered response that followed he must've been looking at Zoey when he spoke.

"I—I'm so sorry, I c-could not find her. She-she wasn't in her r-room."

"That's enough, Draco. Stop terrorising my omega and tell me what's wrong," said the older woman. Far more advanced in years, but with her looks and manner so like Molly Weasley, Hermione was instantly at ease in her presence.

Ignoring the other two, Malfoy leaned in to whisper in her ear, "The mediwitch is here, Granger. You okay to move to the bed so she can take a proper look at you?" At her nod, he finally let go of her.

Drained, both physically and emotionally, Hermione was unsteady on her feet and needed to lean against Draco for support as she walked to the bed and lay down for her examination.

"I found her curled on the floor, holding her belly, Cora," Malfoy informed the mediwitch. "She looked like she was in agony. The pain continued for a few more minutes after I got here before it finally stopped."

"Alright, let's take a look at your stomach, Hermione," the witch said, addressing her directly. She waited patiently as Hermione, with shaky hands, undid the fastening on the waistband of her skirt and moved, both, her blouse and skirt sufficiently out of the way to expose her stomach.

The mediwitch started by prodding and feeling Hermione's belly using her bare hands after which she drew out her wand and cast a variety of diagnostic spells. Hermione looked at the witch's wand with envy and longing. It was so long since she had held one herself and nearly as long since she'd even seen one. If the werewolves made use of their wands, it was definitely not within her sight.

"Everything is okay. Both, mother and the babies are okay," the mediwitch declared with a smile.

"_Babies_? As in more than one baby?" Hermione asked in bewilderment.

The mediwitch nodded.

"Really?" asked Malfoy. His slack-jawed expression looked like one of wonder and awe at the news, instead of the more fitting reaction of shock she herself was experiencing.

"You can listen to their heartbeats if you like and confirm it yourself."

Both, Draco and the mediwitch looked at her expectantly, but Hermione, who was struggling to digest the news that she was carrying more than one child, didn't care to ask what it was they wanted of her.

"_How many babies _exactly?" she asked, suddenly worried she was going to pop out a litter. "And, what was that gods-awful pain twisting my insides? I thought I was dying—" She gave the witch a pleading look. "I'd really like for someone to explain just what's going on in my body."

"I apologise for that. I suppose it is rather unprofessional of me, but in my defence everything about this situation is so unique I'm a little off-kilter," explained the mediwitch. "Well, let's start by getting the preliminaries out of the way."

Cora settled herself in the only chair in the room, Malfoy continued to stand at Hermione's bedside, and Zoey stood at the entrance of the room, looking like she could not decide if she ought to stay or leave.

"First of all, I'm Coraline Beckett, but the pack just calls me Cora. I used to be a healer before I was turned, but thanks to the superior immunity as well as healing abilities werewolves possess, I've been out of practice for decades now. These days, I'm no more than a mediwitch... As a healer, my specialisation was obstetrics, but with werewolf pregnancies being as rare and tragic as they are, I can't recall the last time I had a pregnant woman in my care, let alone a case like yours. I don't know if your knowledge of werewolves is considerable enough"—Hermione thought she heard Malfoy snort, but ignored him for the woman talking—"to appreciate how remarkable your pregnancy is."

The near giddy tone in the mediwitch's voice rankled Hermione.

"Considering all werewolves were formerly witches or wizards, one would think that these two beings would be able to mate and successfully produce offspring, but with a few rare exceptions, it has been observed that copulation between witches and _weres_, in wizard or wolf form, does not result in conception. Despite our similarities, there exist some physiological differences between our kinds preventing fertilisation. A shame really, as it would be easier for witches to carry their pregnancies to term since they do not turn during the full moon; unlike _weres_, whose bodies transform, and in the process rip apart the child in their womb, at the first sign of the full moon.

"Of course, this isn't to say it's any easier for _weres_ to produce children when mating with their own kind. We believe Luna only blesses true mates with children, but since not every _were _is fortunate enough to have a predestined mate they manage to meet in their lifetime, we rarely have children, human or wolf."

Despite her reputation as an intellectually curious person, Hermione wasn't interested in listening to the insight she may have, under different circumstances, found fascinating. Impatient as she was for answers related to her own condition, Hermione was growing annoyed with Cora, something the mediwitch must have finally picked up.

"I'm not trying to avoid answering your question, Hermione. With your circumstances being as unusual as they are, I need you to understand that, while you can trust me to know my job, there may be things that surprise both of us along the way. Now, to answer your question—" She paused dramatically before she continued. "You're carrying two babies. Considering you're not a _were_ you shouldn't even be pregnant, let alone carrying twins!"

"Guess you can thank Voldemort and his potion for that," Hermione ground out between clenched teeth. She may mean well, but Cora's exuberance in light of her circumstances was really grating at Hermione's nerves.

"Yes," replied Cora in a more sober tone, "I understand this isn't an ideal situation for you. However, for us, this is nothing short of a miracle. Not every wolf has a true mate, so there are many who can never have children. Lycanthropes cannot reproduce naturally; the only way we can increase the numbers of our kind is by infecting witches and wizards with lycanthropy through our bite. The process is violent and painful in more than just the physical sense—a newly turned werewolf is both feared and shunned by their human relatives. Imagine having an alternative, a way to avoid all that senseless pain and suffering..."

"If you were looking to avoid senseless pain and suffering you really chose the wrong master to serve."

Both Cora and Draco winced visibly at her choice of words. The truth was rarely palatable.

"We are wolves, we follow our Alpha alone." Cora's voice was frosty now, the friendliness from earlier all gone. "We _serve _no master."

"Well, Greyback is little more than Voldemort's pet, so whether you serve him or your Dark Lord, it's a distinction without a difference."

She knew she was being uncharacteristically brash in her speech—Harry would've approved—but, she was absolutely knackered, and all out of patience to put up with the thestral dung Cora was spouting as justification for the complicity of the werewolves in the crimes committed by Voldemort and his followers.

Cora leaned forward in her seat and baring her teeth at Hermione let out a low growl. The move prompted Malfoy to stalk up to Cora; he stopped in front of her, blocking Hermione from Cora's line of sight. His back was to Hermione, but his wide stance and the visible tension in his body made him look threatening, even if she wasn't the one being stared down by him.

"Oh, you can just stuff that display of dominance or direct it where it belongs. I'm not the one out of line, pup. You know I wouldn't hurt her." Cora's tone suggested she was deeply offended by Malfoy's move and all it implied. "She may not be one of us, but she carries your blood; as far as I'm concerned it makes her pack. And if that wasn't enough, she's also my patient now. I would never hurt a patient, no matter how rude."

Hermione made a sound, ready to protest, but Malfoy turned and gave her a look so quelling the words died in her mouth. "Granger," he said stepping aside so he no longer stood between the two witches but was close enough to a seated Cora he could loom menacingly over her. "Inquisitive witch that you are, no doubt you're bursting with all sorts of questions. Wouldn't you rather ask Cora for answers, than waste time antagonising her?"

While Hermione didn't like being scolded, she was unable to deny the soundness of his reasoning. She looked away from the others and thought about what she wanted to ask.

"So when will the babies be born?" she asked, starting with the simpler questions. "It's usually nine months for werewolves too, right?"

"About that, I meant to discuss this with you, but then we got a little distracted." Cora looked less confident when she spoke now. "I can't tell if this is just something random, or an intended side effect of the version of Fero you were given, but... the pregnancy appears to be in an accelerated state."

"What do you mean?" asked Malfoy

Cora ignored his interruption and continued to address Hermione. "The gestation period is nine months for our kind, same as all humans, but during your check-up, I observed the pups looked far more developed than they should at this stage in the pregnancy. It's really hard for me to commit to a date, since I don't possess all the facts, but one thing is certain, the pups will definitely be here in less than six months."

Merlin, thought Hermione, instantly recalling her conversation with Voldemort. The bastard had figured out a way to not only make his new army but he may have also worked out a way to reduce the time it took to create it.

"Are you sure," asked Malfoy, "I mean, isn't it possible that the pups are just large?"

There was that word again, Hermione noted mentally—_pups_.

"Why do you keep referring to the babies as pups? Does that mean I'm going to give birth to..." her question trailed off, unwilling to give voice to her fears.

"No, no, you're not having wolf cubs," Cora reassured her, "It's just a term we use for our young, be they children or newly turned _weres_ with little self-control. Isn't that right, pup?" she asked Malfoy. Cora's eyes twinkled with mirth when Malfoy stood up straighter, making himself appear larger, and glared at Cora.

"Shows just how young you are if you think that kind of macho posturing will make me fall in line, pup."

"I'd be a fool to even consider such a thing, Cora," said Malfoy with a shake of his head, trying to keep a straight face but failing. "Now, can you stop taking the piss out of me in the presence of an omega"—he inclined his head towards Zoey, whom everyone had forgotten about until that moment—"and tell me why you believe the pups are developing quicker than normal?"

"You've grown far too serious since you earned your beta stripes, pup," said Cora with a sigh, "but I understand you're equally eager for answers."

Cora looked towards Hermione before she began her explanation. "I doubt you remember this, but I visited you when we first confirmed you were pregnant. I know the exact date the pups were conceived and yet when I used the diagnostic spell, it confirmed your pregnancy as being nearly four months along."

Four months ago, she was still living in relative safety with her friends; she could not possibly have been pregnant back then. Cora looked like she was still withholding something. "What is it? What are you not telling me?" she asked Cora.

"The pain you experienced earlier, it was probably due to your body trying to accommodate a sudden growth spurt in the pups. I believe you'll experience more of those moments till you're due for delivery," Cora looked like she was cautiously picking her words, "...more and progressively worse moments, depending on how rapidly the pups grow."

News that the agonising pain from before would not be an isolated event made Hermione despondent. Nearly four years ago, back when the Death Eaters weren't as powerful and the Order still thought it was okay for him to be out in the field, Harry and a small group of Order members had broken into the Lestrange vault at Gringott's to steal Hufflepuff's cup, an item later confirmed as one of Voldemort's horcruxes. The mission, though successful in its objective, did not go as planned.

Alerted to the break-in, a group of Death Eaters surrounded the bank forcing Order members back into the subterranean region—from where they ultimately made a daring escape on the back of the Gringott's dragon. Among the group of Death Eaters they fought that day, was Voldemort's insane sidekick, Bellatrix Lestrange. Cackling like the maniac she was, the witch had chased after them, throwing her favourite curse willy-nilly, indifferent to whether her side caught friendly fire. Hermione was in the process of mounting the dragon when a stray crucio hit her. The spell could not have lasted two minutes, but Hermione held firmly it was the worst pain she had ever experienced ...until today. Recalling the excruciating pain she experienced before Malfoy showed up, she did not think she could survive regular episodes of the same.

Her dismay must have shown because Cora's expression turned more compassionate. "As a witch you may be physically weaker than us, and I imagine the pregnancy has you feeling drained and out of sorts, but you have a strong magical core, Hermione; I believe you have it in you to survive this."

The sincerity coming through in Cora's words helped reassure Hermione, somewhat.

"Now, as far as the pain goes, I can't risk giving you any pain potions, but we can work towards making your body stronger so you're able to cope better with the rapid changes taking place within you." Cora now spoke in that no nonsense tone one usually associated with people in her profession. "On my way here, Zoey mentioned that you've been experiencing nausea and throwing up a lot—"

"You've been throwing up?" Malfoy asked Hermione then turned to glare at Zoey, "And why is this, the first I'm hearing of it?" His voice was low but threatening all the same.

"Well, it's normal, isn't it? Nothing unusual about a pregnant woman being sick," Zoey explained, eyes darting about the room. She shifted her weight from one foot to another.

"Are you a Healer now to decide what is normal or not?"

Hermione grew worried for Zoey, Malfoy looked ready to leap across the room and tear her throat out.

"N-no, n-no, sir," Zoey whimpered and fell to her knees. Lowering her head and keeping her eyes on the ground, she said, "I'm so-sorry, sir. I didn't think it mattered; she's just a prisoner."

If Hermione was shocked to see Malfoy angered by Zoey's statement, she was stunned by how swiftly the old mediwitch moved to step between the two before Malfoy could say or do anything.

"You daft girl," Cora rebuked Zoey, "even if you don't understand how important Hermione is to the pack, you should know the importance of following orders. Another incident like this and next time I won't stand between you and the discipline you so rightfully deserve."

Zoey appeared to visibly shrink at Cora's admonishment. She looked like she dare not risk the wrath of the other two _weres_ in the room by opening her mouth, opting instead to nod in acknowledgement of the warning she was issued before letting her head hang further in shame.

"If we'd known sooner, we could have saved you some discomfort," said Cora, having turned to face Hermione once more. "It's not uncommon for the sense of taste to change during the course of a pregnancy. I'll have our potioneer whip up a couple of variants of the health potion so we can settle on one more agreeable to your system in its current state. I'll also ask the cook to send you meals you may actually enjoy eating so your body isn't expelling much-needed nutrients. You may be a prisoner, Hermione, but you're also carrying the future of the pack, I believe we can get some more exceptions made for you," said Cora, giving Malfoy a brief but pointed look. He responded with a subtle nod, which made her wonder what kind of exceptions were being made for her and what was Malfoy's part in it.

"If there's nothing else, I shall take your leave," said Cora edging towards the door.

Hermione uttered a mumbled, "Thank you," feeling embarrassed by the consideration the mediwitch had shown her in light of her own rude behaviour earlier. The last few weeks she was all over the place where her emotions were concerned, going from angry to sad, sad to irritated, and then from irritated to giddy, all in the blink of an eye.

Hermione looked at Malfoy expecting him to take his leave as well, but he remained rooted like he was waiting for something.

Hermione looked from Malfoy to Cora for an explanation, who in turn responded with a chuckle upon observing both, Malfoy's stance as well as the baffled look Hermione wore.

"He wants to confirm for himself that his pups are okay," Cora explained. At her continued look of confusion the mediwitch added, "Just let him put his head to your belly so he can hear their hearts beating and put his mind at ease."

"Is that possible, so soon?" Hermione asked bewildered with everything she was learning.

"Absolutely. Plus wolves have excellent hearing so Draco should be able to hear them just fine if he presses his ear to your belly."

"Is that okay with you, Granger?" Malfoy asked her, looking like he fully expected her to refuse.

"Uh, I guess?" said Hermione, feeling unsure but seeing no harm in doing so. Later that night, as she lay in bed waiting for sleep to come, it would occur to Hermione that at no point that day was she uneasy over the prospect of Malfoy—the man who by his own admission had played a role in her rape—touching her.

"Thank you," said Malfoy, sitting at the edge of the bed and leaning forward to press his ear to her stomach.

—

Cora turned to briefly watch the couple before she quietly made her exit from the room, dragging a clueless Zoey with her. They were an odd pair, but there had to be something between Draco and Hermione for Luna to have blessed them so generously. She was an old _were_, though not quite an Elder, and as such many would likely dismiss her beliefs as superstitions but according to Oskar there was a greater magic at work when it came to Hermione's pregnancy than whatever the Fero potion was capable of producing.

It would benefit their pups and ultimately the pack, if Hermione and Draco formed a bond. With both having sworn allegiance to different sides in the war, she wasn't sure how the relationship would work out, but those were concerns for later. For now, she would give the odd couple the space and time needed for the delicate magic of the mate-bond to weave its spell on them.

—

Draco's head hovered over Hermione's distended abdomen. He made eye contact with her, silently seeking confirmation she was truly okay with what he was about to do. He patiently held still as he awaited her go-ahead. Even his wolf, who constantly demanded he seek her out and knot with her once more, seemed happy to sit back quietly. He recognised that the smallest mistake on his part could scare her off for good.

At a nod from _her,_ he pressed his ear flat against her skin and held his breath. Her fingers twitched, but surprisingly, she did not shove him away like he was expecting her to.

Sighing in relief, Draco closed his eyes and tried to ignore the familiar rhythm of Hermione's heartbeat; instead, he focused on two new sets of heartbeats. As he tried to commit to memory the two new rhythms, Draco found something bubble within him he suspected was love for his unborn pups. _His pups_, he was listening to his pups' hearts beating. He could not help the smile that formed on his face at the thought.

"What is it?"

The whispered question drew his attention to _her_. He opened his eyes and took in the sheepish look on her face; she probably thought she was intruding but was too curious to resist asking. This lovely creature had no idea what a precious gift she had given him.

"I can hear them. It's amazing," he replied. His words though lacking in eloquence were accompanied by a tone that betrayed the reverence he felt in that moment. Afraid he may get carried away and do something foolish, undoing what little progress he made with her today, Draco decided it was best he leave immediately.

With great reluctance, he moved to leave, stopping at the door only briefly to look at her. "Thank you for this," he said and left hoping she would sense he was thankful to her for more than just letting him listen to his babies' heartbeats.


	7. Chapter 7

At first, both were uncertain of how to proceed, but each, for their own reason, knew they would need to cultivate a relationship with the other. What began with casual nods and nervous smiles, slowly progressed to greetings and comments about the weather, until in a matter of weeks he went from being the guard who followed her, to her companion in her stroll around the bailey.

In the beginning, he stuck to his habit of maintaining a certain amount of distance from her, but with each smile directed his way he felt emboldened to move a little closer. As his certainty over her acceptance of his presence increased, proportionately did the physical space between them decrease. Where once not even their shadows caressed; now they walked side-by-side talking of everything and nothing in particular, though, each was intelligent enough to steer clear of sensitive subjects that could cause their budding relationship to wither and die on the vine. So for all they conversed, neither spoke of the things that truly mattered.

Until Draco began accompanying her, Hermione had grown lonely in more than just the physical sense. Ever since her introduction to the wizarding world, she was accustomed to always having people around her, whether it was the girls dormitory at Hogwarts or the different Order safe houses she lived in since she was forced to quit school. While she may have liked being by herself when researching something or even reading for pleasure, as a rule, she did not enjoy solitude. Months of being left alone behind enemy lines, in her room at Bleidd Castle, with nothing to do to pass her time, and her daily interactions limited to Zoey, who was about as responsive as a plank, made Hermione desperate for some form of companionship. Even if Draco did not speak much, and made her carry the weight of the conversation, she didn't mind. Thanks to Zoey, she had grown rather skilled at holding one-sided conversations. Besides, she was naturally inclined to prattle when nervous, and the heated looks he gave her when he thought she would not notice, ensured she was sufficiently on edge to maintain an incessant stream of chatter.

It took Hermione some time to recognise the sexual tension between them for what it was, but when she did, the realisation hit her like a ton of bricks. One of the unpleasant side effects of the pregnancy, apart from the excessive vomiting, was the high libido she found herself stuck with. Thinking of the intense stares directed at her by a certain blond only made matters worse, especially now that she had started to notice what a fine specimen of masculinity he was, in strictly physical terms. It certainly didn't help her keep her lustful thoughts in check when she could recall just how pleasurable sex with him could be. Extraordinarily though, it had taken something as innocuous as a smile for her to find out she was attracted to him.

Watching Draco smile was an odd phenomenon. Hermione could not recall a single time she had seen him smile genuinely in all their years at school. With his harsh colouring and frosty demeanour, it was easy to forget that Draco Malfoy was a good-looking wizard. But, something about his smile transformed his face, almost as much as lycanthropy did during the full moon, going from posh and contemptuous, to open and accessible. While it wasn't an infectious smile like Ron's, or even endearing as Harry's, Draco's smile made Hermione notice the man himself.

To her people usually appeared as the sum of their actions. A man like Lucius Malfoy who was evil enough to give a little girl a cursed diary was ugly, while a noble elf like Dobby, who sacrificed his life helping Harry, Luna and Neville escape captivity, was beautiful. Confronted with a new version of Draco Malfoy, for the first time, Hermione found herself painting a picture of a man based solely on shallow appearances, and to her great shame, she discovered she was attracted to what she saw.

Hermione observed that while he did not talk much, Draco would find excuses to touch her. She pretended not to notice since the touches were fairly innocent anyway; his fingers brushing against hers, a hand offered in support lingering for longer than necessary, fingers grazing her neck while tucking away a stray curl. Hermione wasn't called the brightest witch for nothing. She could see what was happening, his werewolf instincts were making him more protective of her since she was carrying his children. And while he was turning out to be a far more pleasant companion than she could've imagined, she was still a prisoner and he a Death Eater, however disgraced.

She didn't know how Draco had ended up there, whether he was punished for turning into a werewolf or punished by being turned into a werewolf, but, undoubtedly, he would have been disgraced as the people on his side of the war were not known for their tolerant attitude towards anyone not _Pure_. Draco's situation made him the best candidate for an ally since he was already predisposed to protecting her. She recognised the need to encourage whatever was naturally developing between them so she could exploit it in the future to orchestrate her escape.

In the beginning, she was indifferent to him, but once aware of the sexual tension between them, it was hard for her hormonally charged body not to react with arousal to the hungry looks he gave her. She doubted he was aware of his effect on her but didn't think he would object to her lascivious thoughts involving him. However, it wasn't the thrill that shot through her when he'd give her a predatory grin that was the cause for her concern, no, it was the tiny flutter in her chest when he'd flash a crooked smile at her that made the brightest witch worry she may not escape captivity without succumbing to Stockholm syndrome first.

—

Watching Hermione smile wasn't a novelty, in and of itself. During their many years at school together, there were several occasions Draco got to witness her smile, whether it was out of happiness from spending time with her friends, as an encouragement to classmates struggling with their studies, or in self-satisfaction when she earned points for her house. But for all those times he had seen her smile he had never been the recipient of one of those smiles, until now.

Hermione Granger wasn't as blessed in the looks department as she was in the brains, but that wasn't to say she wasn't beautiful in her own right. Despite possessing plain brown eyes and plain brown hair that he had once described as being muddy like her blood, Draco was not immune to their appeal. Shining with intelligence and a hint of mischief, Hermione's eyes were captivating, and her unruly hair beckoned to be fisted in his hands as he made her submit. Her face, usually hidden by her bushy hair, had an ageless beauty that glowed unaided by glamour spells despite the toll the pregnancy was taking on her body. And while she did not possess the kind of lusty curves desirable to most wizards, the graceful curve of her swan-like neck was enough to inspire lust in him.

There were other qualities Hermione Granger embodied that, both, wizard and wolf could appreciate. She was intelligent to a degree most would find intimidating. She was brave, not lacking in either physical or moral courage. She was loyal to a fault, a trait he had always assigned high value to. And despite her slender built, which would be considered fragile by the pack's standards, there was an underlying strength to the witch that went beyond bone and sinew, even beyond magic, to the very core of her spirit that had his wolf panting after her. All these qualities he now found so attractive in her were ones she'd always possessed, but blinded by prejudice he would have gone through life thinking of her as nothing more than jumped-up Mudblood Granger if lycanthropy had not caused the scales to drop from his eyes, letting him finally, truly, _see _her.

Draco wasn't sure where they currently stood in their relationship. They weren't strangers, and with her carrying his children, they could not be enemies anymore, but they weren't exactly friends either. They were friendly with each other, but even though he spent time with her nearly every day, he didn't know what she actually thought of him. That said, he didn't need to be a legilimens to know that, at least physically, she desired him. When she was aroused, her lustful thoughts were clearly written all over her face anytime she looked his way.

He knew she was a capable liar, having witnessed her lie convincingly to Umbridge before delivering her to the centaurs. That was back when they were kids, before they were forged by the flames of war. He took it as a positive sign that she wasn't bothering to mask her lust from him, but he was hesitant to act on the unspoken invitation. As pleasant as their interactions were, Draco was not foolish enough to forget she was a prisoner. Attempts to play nice and form a bond with any of her jailers could simply be a matter of survival for her. So on days she smelled particularly aroused he kept his distance from her, lest he succumb to the temptation.

It didn't bother Draco that she was most likely trying to manipulate him, anyone would do the same in her place. He was just relieved to get the chance to show her the man he had turned into and see for herself that he was capable of caring for her. For the most part, he respected her space. He never entered her room, except for that time when she had nearly passed out from the painful spasms of the twins growth spurt. However, with his eager wolf constantly hounding him, he could not resist touching her altogether. It gave him some confidence that even though she was aware of his subtle touches she never told him off or even commented on it.

Draco treated Hermione with the same patience and care he would have once shown towards a complicated potion, while he waited for her to come around. They were living in times of great strife, belonging to opposite factions didn't make things any easier, but whatever the outcome of the war, they were now bound together by their unborn babies, their lives and futures forever entwined, whether she realised it or not.

* * *

"—could've sworn I saw Potter's Mudblood pass by."

"That's her all right. The Dark Lord has special plans for her."

"I've seen her. Looks like she's carrying Potter's bastard, isn't she? That should force the rat out of hiding."

"Not Potter, would you believe it's the wolves that knocked her up."

"Utter rot, mate! Unless she's a werewolf, there's no way that's possible."

"Got that right, Lucas. She may be an animal like the rest of her kind, but she's not one of these mutts."

"Careful Rhys, they've got some sharp ears."

"They wouldn't _dare_ touch one of us Black Cloaks."

"Maybe, but we're in their territory and outnumbered. Try to keep your stupidity in check."

"Whatever. Point is there's no way a wolf got her up the duff."

"Oi! Are you two blind or just stupid? Haven't you been paying attention to what goes on in the dungeons?"

"Yeah, but that's different, innit? I mean, they're _all_ werewolves."

"Sure, but you know they're not just experimenting with wolves. They've got other sites with other creatures as well. Heard they've even got giants..."

"I thought those were just rumours. Are you saying you-know-who is trying to mix some of these beasts to create something new?"

"Not something new. Maybe just something better?"

"Still sounds farfetched to me."

"Yeah, and it's not like we've seen anything come off it either."

"Waste of time, if anyone bothered to ask me."

"Well no one did, so you can shut up, Mitch. I'd rather be here than on some overseas mission."

"But we're missing all the action, Nick. I mean we could be out there exterminating Mudbloods, making some galleons."

"How you've survived this long being as stupid as you are, I haven't a clue. And how many times do I have to tell you to stop calling me Nick, you low class piece of—"

"Put your wand away, Nicholas. Mitch may be a bit touched in the head but he's still one of us and that makes him an elite in this world."

"What's with all of you gangin' up on me? I've spoken nothin' but the truth!"

"You don't _seriously_ believe everything you read in the Prophet?"

"Whaddya mean?"

"Can't you tell the difference between news and propaganda, you twit?"

"How aboutchu speak plainly so I have a clue whatchu on about 'fore you go callin' me names?"

"Sheldon and Nicholas are saying that only a fool would believe all the propaganda that's been published about our missions overseas."

"It still don't make sense to me. Are you sayin' we haven't nearly taken over the Bulgarian Ministry?"

"Far from it, we've received quite the walloping in both our campaigns to overthrow their government."

"Bollocks!"

"It's true, mate. My brother was part of the push they made a coupla months ago. He said it was brutal—a carnage, he called it. We ended up injuring so many of our own side... They'd be foolish to make another attempt anytime soon."

"Come on fellas, you're tryna put one over on me, eh? Bulgaria's nothin' compared to England, we'd have taken over easy."

"We're saying, it's all lies about us winning in Bulgaria ...or anywhere else for that matter. It's just something to keep our morale up and the public cowed down—Don't want them getting any ideas."

"Yes. We didn't have to fight an all out war in England so it was easier. Probably why Lords Nott and Malfoy imagined they could make a direct play for Bulgaria."

"You know the tests going on here relates to their loss there, right?"

"In what way?"

"The wolves are stronger and make for great cannon fodder in the battlefield, but they have a special kind of magic, some kind of telepathic bond with their kind that helps them sense each other even in a crowd."

"Yes, I've heard of it. It's why they never accidentally kill one of their own in battle."

"See, the Bulgarians have an advantage over us, they're quite militaristic, with a majority of their witches and wizards part of the militia. They don't have the same struggles in battle that we do."

"And, they have the home ground advantage."

"Yes, that too. So the Dark Lord wants to harness the magic of the wolves to get us the same advantages as the wolves. Basically, they're trying to weaponise some aspects of lycanthropy."

"Merlin and Morgana! Is that why they were sawing through that one's skull... to _study it?_ I was so grateful to have not been picked to do the job I didn't bother to ask why."

"Don't know about you, Mitch and Gary, but I'm more than a little relieved to know there's a point to the things we've been doing in the dungeons. I was under the impression it was simply a few bored senior Death Eaters trying to amuse themselves—You'll know what I'm talking about if you were invited to any of the recent revels... It gets... creepy."

"The revels are less fun now, more shock and gore."

"I know what you mean. Call me simple, but I long for the days when a revel meant shagging a fit Halfblood and using an _imperio_ to make the ugly ones do silly things for laughs."

"That was some funny shite back then. Nowadays it's all fuck-them-up-the-arse and string-them-by-the-intestines."

"As much as I'd like to stick around here listening to you dummies get a clue, duty beckons. Clifford, Sheldon and I need to get to the portkey point before Parkinson arrives."

"What's Parkinson doing here? I've never known him to visit Bleidd—"

"Not _Lord _Parkinson. Got an owl from his daughter saying she's coming over."

"I didn't know she was a Death Eater."

"Well then, add that to the list of important things you don't know."

"Why is she important in any way?"

"For starters, she's one of the Sacred Twenty-Eight—"

"That's a real Pureblood princess right there."

"—and if that isn't enough, she's also one of the original Junior Death Eaters."

"Joined right after Malfoy's and Nott's boys, didn't she?"

"That's right. But daddy Parkinson packed her off to the Americas soon after she finished school."

"So how come she's back now?"

"That should be obvious, I'd think. Britain's pretty stable now compared to some years ago. We pretty much control everything, and the resistance is good as dead. Come to think of it, with the exception of Potter's Mudblood, I can't remember the last we came across any members of the Order."

"You must've missed the revel that took place in Godric's Hollow then... That one was a real beauty—"

"Forget the revel. I wanna hear more 'bout the Parkinson—"

"Our current state of affairs has nothing to do with her return, you dimwits. It's because of the order."

"What Order? They've been nearly beaten out of existence."

"What? No, not The Order of the Phoenix. I realise we're insulated here to a certain degree, and the Daily Prophet is no longer a reliable source of news, but surely you have other sources to keep yourselves apprised of the goings on in our society?! I was referring to you-know-who's latest order asking Purebloods to marry and have kids."

"I heard about it, just didn't bother with the implications. It's not like I have any prospects, do I?"

"Same here. With Pureblood women being as scarce as they are, I doubt any of them will want to settle for a poor Black Cloak like me. And since it's illegal to have a child with a Halfblood, I don't see any reason to concern myself with the new law."

"So, Sheldon, you think Parkinson's back to marry?"

"Seems more likely that her father wanted her to return to arrange a union with one of the old wizarding families of England."

"So why is she coming to Bleidd?"

"Her owl didn't state her purpose. I imagine she's just doing a tour of all the strongholds."

"Heh! Wonder how she'll take the news that her old pal was the one to knock up the Mudblood."

"Which pal?"

"The Malfoy brat."

"Thought you said it was one of the wolves that put a bun in her oven?"

"He's right, mate. Malfoy's lad is one of them now."

"You don't say! But he's like, I mean, isn't he royalty or somethin', being a Malfoy and all?"

"I believe they'd rather keep it quiet where the general public is concerned, out of consideration for Lord Malfoy's high standing, but the Dark Lord had the younger Malfoy punished by having one of the werewolves bite him. They expected him to die, weak thing that he was, but apparently he surprised everyone by surviving."

"Sounds like a porky pie to me."

"My father is close friends with Walden Macnair, who was present when this took place. I have no reason to doubt the word of either of those men."

"Hang on. Do you mean to tell me that the big bloke usually keeping guard over Potter's Mudblood, who looks so much like Lucius Malfoy, is _actually _Lord Malfoy's son?"

"That's the one."

"Blimey!"

"You can say that again. I had no idea either."

"Made a werewolf and then made to breed a Mudblood..."

"That is one long fall from grace, boyo."

"That's a lesson, right there. Best not give the bosses any reason to get mad at us."

"Agreed. If they could _that _to someone with such high-ranking—"

"—can't imagine what they'd do to one of us."

"Absolutely. Keep your mouth shut and follow orders."

"Come on, we really do need to get going now if we don't want to be late."

Hermione drew her knees closer to her body, sitting still on the stone floor, despite knowing she was concealed from the view of both, the group of Death Eaters departing, as well as the ones still chatting out on the balcony. There was also no risk of them bumping into her when they left as the entryway connected to a corridor that would lead them to a different wing of the castle, away from where she currently sat in a crouch below one of the large windows that looked out on the balcony.

With the departure of the more intelligent three from the group, the discourse had reduced to nothing but useless banter. Hermione hoped they would leave before Zoey returned and observed her position in relation to the group of chatty Death Eaters. After the reprimand from Cora, Zoey was undoubtedly reporting everything related to Hermione.

This wasn't Hermione's first attempt to listen in on a conversation around the castle, so when on her way to the courtyard she happened to catch a glimpse of a group of six to eight Death Eaters talking outside it was easy enough for her to pull the old trick on Zoey. The old trick basically involved pretending to be too tired or sick to move, then making Zoey leave to fetch her something, water, potion, extra clothing... so she could eavesdrop on whoever was talking. While simple, it was easy to execute for two reasons: Zoey believed Hermione was weak, and Zoey feared the consequences to her own health if something happened to Hermione on her watch. Were it Malfoy accompanying her today, it would never have worked as he would not have left her alone. If he believed she was feeling poorly, he would have picked her up and marched straight to the mediwitch.

Now even though Hermione had a sound routine to divert Zoey when she had an opportunity to spy on the other inhabitants of the castle, nothing had come of it so far. The werewolves always sensed her presence and moved away and the few Death Eaters she had spied on did little more than confirm that they had grown more sadistic as they felt emboldened to openly practice their bigotry. In comparison, the bounty of information she had unearthed in a single conversation today, felt like hitting the jackpot, making up for all previous disappointments. To say it had been enlightening would be putting it mildly. She would need time to assign context to everything she had heard in order to properly process it all, but the one piece of information that stood out above the rest was the news that Voldemort's armies had failed abroad. It gave her the hope she desperately needed to believe that they might win after all.

While the Order spent the last few years trying to find and destroy the horcruxes, the Death Eaters strengthened their hold over wizarding Britain, altering it in ways that it would take years after Voldemort's fall to reverse the damage and truly reclaim their society once more. Due to limited resources, they were unable to keep the Death Eaters in check, who were rapidly growing their numbers to a point where there was mounting concern that even if they managed to defeat Voldemort, the Death Eaters would still emerge victorious in the war.

Ever since Voldemort's minions wrangled control of the Ministry, overseas travel was strictly controlled and closely monitored, making it impossible for members of the Order to slip past the lines and look for allies in other wizarding communities. Unfortunately, as Hermione discovered today, like so many others they too had bought into Voldemort's propaganda about his successes abroad. Order leadership had discussed the matter at length before concluding that they would be risking exposure if they attempted to reach out to their counterparts outside of Britain, and in vain too, as no one was likely to help if the rest of the world was also engaged in a fight for survival with no resources to spare.

However, if they were all lies it was possible for the Order to get help from outside, provided they could offer their prospective allies an incentive to do so. Hardened by the struggle and strife of the last five or so years of her life since Hogwarts, Hermione was no longer the bright-eyed witch who believed that people could be convinced to do the right thing simply because it was the right thing to do. The Order would need to come up with the right incentive to convince others to join them in their fight.

The one benefit of being a captive, thought Hermione, was all the free time she had to figure out a way to put to use everything she had learnt today.

* * *

"You filthy whore!"

Though her cheek stung, she instinctively thrust an arm out in time to keep her head from cracking against the floor while the other wrapped protectively around the bulge of her stomach. It was the unexpectedness of the slap more than its force that caused her to lose her balance and fall.

"Not only did you trick my Draco into fucking your slaggy cunt, but you went and got yourself pregnant," shrieked Pansy Parkinson.

Hermione blinked in amazement, "You think I wanted any of this?"

"Who cares what a Mudblood whore like you wants; I have no intention of letting some two-knut slapper replace me as the next Lady Malfoy just because she managed to get herself knocked up with Draco's babies," Pansy cried out.

"So, abort them," Hermione said tonelessly.

She always knew Parkinson had a blind spot when it came to Malfoy, she just had never realised how large it was. It would take a tremendous amount of denial for any woman to believe she was the aggressor in this situation. It was odd that Parkinson expected to become the next Lady Malfoy by hitching her wagon to Malfoy. Was it possible she had not heard about Malfoy's condition? Hermione would have laughed at the absurdity of the situation if she didn't also find it pathetic.

Parkinson drew her wand and pointed it at Hermione's abdomen; from the speculative look in her eyes as they narrowed in focus on her, Parkinson was most likely doing a mental run-through of her limited inventory of spells to figure out which one would most suit her purpose.

"Pans, what do you think you're doing?" asked Malfoy, sauntering in like he was still the Slytherin Prince at Hogwarts. He didn't fool her; she'd seen how the Death Eaters treated him now. To his credit, Malfoy never reacted to any of the taunts or jeers the Death Eaters threw his way; he appeared to have developed a thick skin, in more ways than one, since turning into a werewolf.

"Oh Drakie-poo," cooed Pansy flying to Malfoy and throwing her arms around his neck. For his part, Malfoy stood rigidly, pulling his head back before she could assault his lips.

"Pansy, what are you doing here?" he asked again, looking every bit peeved, as he dragged her hands away from his neck.

"I came to see you, silly," Parkinson said, pushing her chest out suggestively. "I went to Malfoy Manor soon as I returned to England. I didn't realise how much I'd missed the place till I stepped into the Manor... felt like I'd returned home. I was so excitedly looking forward to being reunited with you, but you weren't around," she whined. "Like you, Lucius was away on a mission, but Narcissa was at home. We had such a lovely time talking about my stay in America. You know, I really believe I impressed your mother with how sophisticated I've become now. More than once she said to me, 'Pansy, darling, you must tell me this story another time,' and I got the sense she was expecting that she and I would be spending a lot of time in the near future."

Hermione stared at Parkinson. Had the witch taken one too many falls from the broom, did she not realise how delusional she sounded?

"So mother told you I could be found here?"

"Well, not immediately. She was oddly tight-lipped about your mission and whereabouts. But you know how persistent I can be when I want something, darling. No one can refuse me for too long," said Parkinson flashing him a smug smile.

"I decided to pay you a surprise visit today but I got held up by the stupid Black Cloaks who thought I'd care to know their business here. Bored me to death with all kinds of reports. Then one of them mentions you, tells me all about what the Mudblood did to you—Oh Draco! My poor darling, how terrible it's been for you. Tricked and taken advantage of by this muddy skank. I can't imagine how you've suffered... But don't worry. I'm here now. Together, we'll fix this mess."

Hermione was certain Malfoy was just as amused as she was by Parkinson's version of the events that had transpired between them.

Without caring that Hermione was in the room, Pansy tore off her robes, revealing a completely naked body beneath.

"I'm here for you, my love. Take me. Fuck your beautiful babies into me."

Pansy may have a pug-face but the stunning built of her body certainly justified the level of confidence she possessed to stand starkers before them. Malfoy didn't look impressed. He reacted by swatting away Pansy's hand as it reached for his genitals.

"Pans, does your father know you're visiting me?"

Pansy shook her head. "No, daddy doesn't know. I thought I'd give him a surprise when the two of us showed up together, engaged," said Pansy clapping her hands in delight.

"Has no one updated you on my current status?"

"I may have been out of England but I followed the society papers closely. I know you're not married or even engaged yet. You've been waiting for me all this time just as I—"

"So, I take it no one told you I'm a werewolf now?"

"Wer-wer-werewolf?!" Parkinson stuttered in shock.

"Pansy, it looks like you've been labouring under a few delusions. As your friend let me clear some of them for you." Malfoy spoke calmly, with the kind of no nonsense undertone to his voice that made one sit up and pay attention.

"First of all, I'm no longer the Malfoy heir. Second, Hermione is not a skank. Lastly, and this one's the most important one," Malfoy body language abruptly changed from friendly to threatening, "if I ever even hear about you pointing your wand to threaten my unborn children again, I will forget we were ever friends."

He gave her a couple of moments to allow his words to sink in.

"Nod, if you understand, Pans."

Parkinson nodded, threw Hermione a dirty look, picked up her discarded robes and, without even bothering to get dressed first, walked out with her head held high.

"I apologise for my negligence. Pansy should not have been able to reach you. I'm sorry you had to listen to her insult you like that."

Hermione looked away from Parkinson's retreating figure to Malfoy who was suddenly in front of her. Considering he had yet to apologise for any of his loathsome behaviour towards her during their Hogwarts years, which was far worse than Parkinson's just now, it was surreal to hear him apologise for Parkinson's ridiculous display. Add in the fact she was currently his prisoner, someone he had technically raped and gotten pregnant, his reason for apologising struck her as downright silly.

She shrugged. This hardly mattered. She made to move past him but stopped when he put his hand on her arm.

"Did you mean it... about aborting the babies?" His voice sounded strained, like the thought pained him.

"Would it be that surprising if I did?" she countered. What did he expect, that she would welcome being pregnant with twins with her former bully, who now on top of being a Death Eater was also a werewolf?

"No. No, I suppose not. It's just, I thought—See, I didn't think you'd ever consider doing such a thing."

Instead of the anger she expected, there was a vulnerability in his voice that shattered her defences.

"No, of course I wouldn't," she sighed. "I'm just so all over the place with the pregnancy and Parkinson really pissed me off with her accusations."

She gingerly touched her cheek and winced at how much the slap still stung. From the way Malfoy glared at her cheek, she must have been sporting a bruise by now.

"Did _she_ do that you?" he demanded.

He looked mad enough to commit murder. Worried about what he may do, she merely nodded.

"By Salazar, I'm going to—"

She grabbed his hand.

"No, wait. Stop."

He looked down at her hand touching him and then at her.

_Merlin, _thought Hermione, catching the ravenous look that flashed across his face. It made her insides feel funny. She again cursed the pregnancy hormones that left her feeling randy at the oddest of moments but did not move her hand away.

"I think you've already made your point. I doubt she'll bother me again," she said and grinned when she recalled Parkinson's failed attempt at seduction.

Malfoy, still fussing over her injury, could not have known why she was grinning. He raised a questioning eyebrow at her, regarding her as if he thought she had gone mad. Her grin widened in mischief before she threw her arms around his neck and pulled him closer in an imitation of what Pansy had done earlier.

"Oooh, Drakie Poo, I've missed you. Please take me now!" Hermione screeched before bursting into a fit of giggles. It took her a few minutes to notice he wasn't laughing with her, but was watching her curiously while holding her by the waist.

Suddenly her arms around his neck felt awkward.

"I know you're only joking, but I should warn you about the effect it has on me to hear you say such things," said Malfoy, looking about as serious as a heart attack. "You know," he lowered his voice to a seductive whisper forcing her to lean in to hear him clearly. "I can help with those _cravings_ you have. You probably don't realise it, but even standing outside I can _smell _you when you do. You can come to me anytime you like. I'm here, I won't ever turn you away and I'm not asking for anything in return."

Hermione licked her lips, tempted by what he was offering even as she was embarrassed he could smell her during the times she was feeling randy.

"You don't have to say anything. Just know I'm here, Granger. I'll take care of you," he promised. "You and the pups," he assured with a light caress to her baby bump.


	8. Chapter 8

Draco was fast asleep when he was jolted awake by the unpleasant sensation of someone on top of him, desperately trying to ride his deflated cock. He did not need to open his eyes to know it was not moonrise yet, or that the female stroking his cock was one of the pack's omegas. He rudely shoved her off him and got out of bed, his cock hanging limp, completely uninterested in the naked woman lying sprawled on her arse in his bed.

"Are you to be my moon mate, tonight?" he asked in annoyance.

"Yes, sir"—she spread her legs and held her pussy lips open with her thumb and forefinger—"Please fill my womb with your seed, sir."

Draco took in the obscene invitation, uninterested. He would have preferred to shove her out of his room, but that was not an option, thanks to Fenrir. In less than an hour, the moon would be out and he would feel the compulsion to act on the alpha's order. Fenrir had specifically commanded that he was to release his seed into any bitch presented to him at the full moon. Greyback did not single out Draco in this. With the exception of Cora and a few others like her who lost their mates in the Pack Wars, every unmated beta in the pack was expected to mate during the full moon. Sometimes they got to choose their moon mate, sometimes it was chosen for them. This was their way even before the Dark Lord began to interfere in pack business. _Weres_ believed that mating before Luna brought forth her blessings in the form of offspring. The select few conceptions that took place in their kind happened when they mated at the time of the full moon, when her presence was felt the strongest on earth.

"Dammit, Moira! The moon isn't even out yet, why the fuck would you already take the potion?" he demanded in exasperation, taking in the way she was shivering with need.

"I was eager to please you, sir." She moved to get up from the bed.

"Stay where you are," he ordered. "I'm going to need some time to get ready for you."

Ogling his still flaccid cock, she licked her lips suggestively. "Allow me to assist you, sir."

The offer only irritated him further. Even after working and fighting his way to the position of beta, Fenrir was in the habit of treating him like a pup when he wasn't treating him like a fool. His resentment of Draco's past life as the Malfoy heir ran so deep Fenrir still sought to find ways to put him down, even though he was pack now. It didn't matter how attractive or seductive an omega may be considered by human standards, Draco recognised the insult intended behind always being paired with an omega.

Werewolves strictly followed a social hierarchy to maintain order in the pack. This hierarchy helped establish who made the decision, who mated with whom, even who ate first. They believed Luna looked favourably on a match of equals, so alphas mated with alphas, or in the absence of another alpha, the strongest beta in the pack. Betas mated with betas, and omegas did not mate since omegas were either their young or their weakest members. While there were no restrictions on whom they could have sex with during the rest of the month, the social order was so instinctual, omegas vied for the attention of betas because even an omega did not find another omega sexually appealing.

"Just stay on the bed and play with yourself while I get myself ready," he ordered brusquely and walked over to the window.

Of course, that she was an omega wasn't his sole objection to the naked female currently stuffing two, three fingers into her pussy in an attempt to pleasure herself. That was simply adding insult to the injury that he wasn't going to get to mate with _her_. He threw the curtains open and looked to the other side of the castle, to the little window in the distance he recognised as part of _her _bedroom. He imagined she was probably keeping herself busy rereading one of the select few books he was able to give her.

He felt at ease knowing Hermione would be safe tonight even without him there. Before heading to bed this afternoon, he made sure to ward her room with repelling spells that would prevent anyone other than him entering or leaving. With the number of Black Cloaks and Death Eaters in residence, he wanted to ensure no one was able to barge in on her, like Pansy had, while the pack was busy with the full moon. Her physical safety seen to, he worried for Hermione in other ways, especially in light of his conversation with Cora this morning.

_"Is Hermione okay?" he asked anxious over Cora's unscheduled visit. "Is it because of the full moon? Are you worried the babies will try to shift?"_

_She shook her head and smiled reassuringly at him."No cause for panic, pup. I was only checking on her since I was here. As far as the babies go, you know we have yet to confirm that she's indeed carrying lycans. So far they appear to be normal babies, Draco."_

_"Yes, but—"_

_"And, even if they are lycans, the whole point of letting them do those experiments on us was to allow us the ability to reproduce in a manner similar to other magical creatures, like the Veela and part-Veelas. **If** the babies carry lycanthropy, it won't be triggered till they enter adolescence. You don't have to worry about them shapeshifting in vitro."_

_Early on, Cora had tried explaining to the betas of the pack the significance of some of the procedures they were to undergo and their impact on the pack's future. But her talk of 'gene manipulation' and 'virus latency' had sounded like nothing more than mumbo-jumbo to them. _

_"Cora, knowing what little I do of the things done in the dungeons, I trust the information I'm given on this matter even lesser than I understand any of it. But, I trust you, and if you believe there is no cause for alarm, I'll go with that."_

_"I never said there was no cause for alarm, pup. While Hermione is definitely on the mend since I changed her potions and diet, she is still underweight and malnourished. I suspect her mental health is affecting her pregnancy. Each time I've visited her, I've noticed her mood switch from restless to listless in an instant. I'm not sure if it's caused by idleness, isolation, or both, but she needs something to help her cope."_

_"I've noticed it too, but I don't know what else to do. I gave her what few books I could find in the castle, but there's only so long a book can make you forget you're a prisoner."_

_"Well, you're not doing her any favours by exploiting her loneliness to get closer to her." He opened his mouth to object to her characterisation of his friendly overtures but kept quiet since she raised her hand indicating she wasn't done yet. "Draco, I've seen you with her. I know you care for her beyond what her womb has to offer. But you can have no future together if she only turns to you out of desperation."_

_It may have been the sympathetic tone to her harsh words, which made him ask, "What would you have me do, Cora?"_

_"House her with the prisoner Fenrir is bringing here this week. I know of your reservations, but I believe it will do Hermione good to have a real friend at her side. Plus, they're both pregnant. Hermione will have someone to commiserate with."_

_"If you know of my reservations, you'll know the risk in keeping them together. You have an idea of what they do to blood-traitors. Can you imagine the state the other prisoner's in by now? If we put them together Hermione will end up hating me, thinking I'm no different than Lucius."_

_"Or," said Cora, giving his shoulder a reassuring squeeze, "she sees proof of just how different you are."_

"Please, sir. Please fuck me," begged the omega, drawing Draco's attention back to the female in his bed.

Picking up the robes he wore earlier that day, Draco reached into the pocket to pull out a pair of Hermione's knickers he had borrowed from her dirty laundry on its way to the wash. Holding the item of clothing against his nose, he inhaled deeply, using his other hand to palm his cock while thinking of Hermione. The scent of her arousal still lingered on the undergarment. Had she thought of him when she fingered herself to a climax? He desperately wanted to believe she fantasised about him, the way he did about her.

His cock now hard enough to perform the task, Draco walked to the bed, grabbed a hold of the female's legs and flipped her over. Far too aroused to care about his manhandling, she pressed her breasts to the bed and raised her hips as far in the air as they could go as she presented herself to him. With her slender built and brunette locks, it was easier to imagine he was holding _her _hips, sliding into _her _wet heat, sheathing his cock to the hilt inside _her_. But even in human form the omega's scent made him sick, predictably so, which was why he had the foresight to steal one of Hermione's undergarments to aid him in his task.

The previous night, in the midst of his briefing with Gunnolf, Fenrir had marched in and handed his second-in-command a parchment with the names of some of the pack members.

_"No Fero for any of the lads on the list, okay?" he instructed. _

_Even without looking at the writing on the sheet Draco, like Gunnolf, knew Fenrir wasn't its author, but past experience taught them not to press the alpha for answers concerning his activities with the Death Eaters._

_"The Dark Lord's got some business for me, so I won't be around. You'll be running the show tomorrow," he told Gunnolf._

_The head beta raised a brow at that, "Again?"_

_"My-my, thought you liked playing alpha. Isn't that what you were doing before you joined me?"_

_Gunnolf's indignation at the alpha's taunt was palpable, but to his credit, he grit his teeth and bore it. Before the Pack Wars, Gunnolf was being groomed to be the next alpha of his pack, which was why he did a far better job filling in as alpha than Fenrir himself did. It was said that when Greyback challenged and defeated Gunnolf's alpha in the most barbaric manner imaginable, it was clear that Gunnolf would be no match for the diabolical alpha. It was also clear that the pack would be lost subsequent to his death, as they would never bond with a bloodthirsty monster like Fenrir. Hoping his presence would facilitate the assimilation of his pack into Greyback's, Gunnolf sacrificed his honour for the wellbeing of the pack by offering his submission that night. _

_Fenrir's smug smile at the restraint exercised by Gunnolf made Draco once again thank his stars that the cruel alpha was not his sire. He felt sorry for the ones turned by Greyback because he did not care for anyone but himself._

_"Be sure to have the betas set up a magical barrier to stop these foolish Black Cloaks from stumbling in on the festivities and getting themselves eaten."_

_"Why do we care if they end up dead? They ought to know their boundaries when they're in our territory," declared Gunnolf, arms crossed over his broad chest._

_"Well, I don't care 'bout those shits. But, I do care what You-Know-Who may do if any of His men turn up dead."_

_"And, why would he concern himself with the fate of foolish Black Cloaks who do not even carry his mark?"_

_Draco sighed and shook his head. Turned as a young child, and raised all his life in a pack of werewolves, Gunnolf had little exposure to humans and did not truly understand the nature of human bigotry. He did not understand that in Lord Voldemort's world, even if the Black Cloaks were considered unworthy of receiving the Dark Mark, a privilege reserved solely for his Death Eaters, they were still higher up the hierarchy than any werewolf would ever be in the eyes of the Dark Lord._

_Having caught Draco's reaction, Fenrir pointed to him and said to Gunnolf, "Ha! I'll let the Malfoy pup handle this one. Now, I've got other business to see to, but pop by later and I'll tell you who I want paired as moon mates tomorrow."_

After Fenrir left, Draco checked the list of males who were not to be given the potion the following night. His name was on it. This would not affect the other werewolves as their sex drive increased at the time of the full moon, but it would be a problem for him. As keen as he was about Hermione, he did not expect to get a rise out of his cock for anyone other than her. This would clearly be a hurdle to overcome if he was to follow the alpha's order.

Obeying the alpha's command gave one a general sense of calm and wellbeing not all that different from executing an order while imperiused. Ignoring an alpha's order caused constant unease and unrest in the werewolf followed by intense pain. While it was possible for someone other than the caster to end the Imperius curse, the only way to throw off an alpha's command was to break the bond with the alpha, which in turn would result in a loss of the pack bonds as well. At that stage, you may as well be a rogue, an _outcast_. He still remembered the way Oskar, his sire, had first explained what it meant to be an outcast.

_"Being an outcast is the worst punishment for one of our kind, pup. Doesn't matter if you leave, get kicked out, or are simply lost, once out of the pack you become a lone wolf, an **outcast**. As social creatures, our minds cannot cope with the loss of the bonds—we slowly go mad. _

_"Our nature compels us to seek others, to create a substitute for what we would have naturally found with the pack. But this is impossible to do, as humans do not accept our kind. A wolf who has lost his mind grows more feral, he envies pack members for having what he cannot. In his jealous rage the mad wolf will lash out and attack our weakest members, thus making him a threat—a threat we then bear the responsibility to eliminate." _

Draco's own experience reflected the truth of Oskar's words. He could still recall those early days of madness when he first woke up—no bonds, his body in agony from the numerous bites he had received, his mind a maelstrom of hurt and rage. But once he accepted Fenrir as his alpha, the bonds fell into place and the storm within him subsided, replaced by calm and a sense of purpose.

Even without the compulsion to do the alpha's bidding, Draco saw the wisdom in keeping his head down and doing as he was told. Disobedience would earn him a one-way portkey, away from Hermione, to die in some hopeless Death Eater mission...

...or worse, put his unborn pups in the crosshairs of the spiteful alpha.

Mindful of what was at stake, he held Hermione's knickers to his face and deeply inhaled her intoxicating scent, hoping it would see him through his unpleasant task. Eyes closed, he brought forth the memory of her reaction to his offer to help with her _cravings_. Recalling the blush on her cheeks and the heat in her eyes, he smiled. It was a strain on his patience to wait for her to make the next move when she smelled as delicious as she did. He bit his lip on a moan as the bitch below him thrust back onto his cock. He held still, letting her do all the work as he slipped in and out of her eager cunt.

It was nearly time. Draco needed to release his seed inside the omega after moonrise—thus carrying out Fenrir's order—while concentrating on delaying his shift so his penis remained knot-free during sex. He held on to the omega's hips as she gradually and painfully transformed into her wolf. As agonising as it looked, he suspected it would be far worse for her if he turned and his wolf found himself knotted with a bitch he did not want. Resisting the urge to slip his skin he continued to thrust harder and faster into her till he was about ready to erupt. Having completed her transformation, the bitch whined and thrashed against him. In her wolf form, her channel was tighter and squeezed his cock in a way that made his eyes roll back in pleasure and finally release his seed into her.

Her cunt greedily wrung his cock of every drop of cum as he pulled out of her just in time for his, relatively quick, transformation. Her smell sickened him. His seed was wasted on this female too, but at least he had done the alpha's bidding. He could walk away now, and have one of the other unmated males attend to the omega, who would remain painfully aroused until the potion wore off.

Draco's wolf was restless, eager to go and check on Hermione despite assurances of her safety. He talked his wolf into looking for Oskar, hoping that spending time with his sire would sufficiently distract him from seeking Hermione out.

It was not hard to spot Oskar as he sat solitary, basking in the moonlight, in a clearing in the woods; the regal-looking grey wolf with the distinct white streak running down his back would have been easy enough to spot even in a pack of grey wolves. The former alpha usually kept to himself during the full moon, never participating in any of the sexual activities. Some said this was because Oskar once had a true mate who died some years ago. Draco never pried into his sire's past to confirm if there was any truth to the rumour.

Having caught Oskar's attention, Draco dropped on his haunches and lowered his head as a sign of respect as he waited for Oskar to approach him. He held still while Oskar first circled, then sniffed him. Oskar bristled and let out an angry snarl when he caught the scent on his privates. Draco knew Oskar's wolf well enough to know his sire was offended on his behalf. He was angry that Greyback had once again paired Draco with an omega.

Oskar's circumstances for joining Greyback's pack were not dissimilar to Gunnolf's, except where Gunnolf had been too young to step into the shoes of alpha, Oskar had already hung up his boots, having long retired from his role as alpha when the Pack Wars broke out. As an Elder of his pack, he chose to stay with them and offer them counsel, but he did not approve of Fenrir as alpha.

Done with his inspection, Oskar bumped his muzzle into Draco's flank, and then looked over his shoulder. He took off in a dash, meaning for Draco to chase him. His sire, most likely sensing his restlessness, had decided an exhausting run through the woods was the best cure for Draco's mood. They playfully nipped at each other's heels while taking turns chasing each other. Though old, Oskar was fast enough in his wolf form to give Draco a decent workout.

In his two years with the pack Draco had many occasions to wonder how different his life would have been if his own father had been more like Oskar when it came to their interactions. One thing was certain: he would never have volunteered to get that ugly stain on his arm if he had not been so desperate for Lucius' approval.

When Oskar eventually grew too tired to continue, they joined the other wolves in feeding and brawling. Enjoyable as it was, Draco's heart was not in it and Oskar must have noticed; he bumped hard into Draco's shoulder and nodded towards the castle, giving Draco a shove in the rear. His sire had grown tired of his moping and wanted him to go and check on Hermione and the pups like he really wanted to.

Once outside Hermione's room, Draco listened to make sure she was asleep before he pushed the door open with his paws and entered. The wards on the room allowed him entry, but would have violently repelled anyone else and alerted Draco of the attempt. Inside, as expected, she lay soundly asleep on the bed. He slowly made his way towards her, stepping as lightly as possible to soften the clacking sound produced by his claws on the stone floor.

Movement behind her eyelids suggested she was dreaming. She had bags under her eyes now and was much thinner compared to when he had knotted with her. The wolf was disappointed in himself for not taking better care of his witch, but otherwise satisfied she was doing okay. He tried to rein in his excitement as he moved his muzzle to where her stomach was located beneath the bedcovers. Placing his ear flat against the surface he listened for proof that his pups were doing fine. Their heartbeats were louder now than the only other time he had listened to them. The sound made his heart swell with pride. Even inside their mother's womb, he could sense the magic in them and the spirit of the noble wolf.

At that very moment, Hermione moved in her sleep and made a whimpering sound. The movement caused her legs to part and suddenly Draco caught the strong scent of her arousal. By Salazaar! He needed to get out of there before his wolf got any ideas.

He explained to his wolf that Hermione would be upset if she woke up to find him in there, upset enough not to let him near her or their pups ever again. He almost had his wolf convinced when Hermione moaned in her sleep. The sound coupled with the growing scent of her arousal caused his wolf to revert to the creature he was. Ignoring his human, the wolf approached the bed. He grabbed the covers by his teeth and yanked them off her, then threw his head back and howled.

—

Hermione sat up with a start. She was in the midst of a very pleasant dream when abruptly she was awakened by a noise. A blast of cold air on her bare legs had her reaching for the covers hoping to nod right off and return to her lovely dream. She froze mid-action, finally noticing the large white wolf not far from her bed. She knew who it was immediately and did not feel vulnerable, as she should have, upon finding herself trapped in a room with a beast. Instead, she observed him with a great deal of curiosity.

Her gaze washed over him as she tried to commit to memory details she had missed during their past encounters. This would be her first proper look at Draco in his wolf form; the first time she would be clear-headed enough to do so. He was a surprisingly large wolf, larger than any dog she had ever seen. His body was covered in a coat of white fur, which, though thick in appearance, did not conceal the definition of the muscles rippling beneath.

She opened her mouth, only instead of screaming in terror, she licked her lips. Her mouth felt dry, too dry. There was no mistaking the heat in his grey eyes. From the tip of his pricked up ears pulled back slightly, to the sharp claws on his paws, he looked every bit the deadly predator he was in this form, yet his eyes wonderfully retained their human quality. Even if she had never seen his wolf before, she would know him from the same feverishly hungry look he gave her in his human form. It was clear why the wolf was there, what he wanted as he stood watching her. Her heart raced, not from fear of being eaten alive. Watching him stalk up to the bed and lift himself up so he now stood almost between her feet, made her pussy weep in anticipation of being devoured by him in other ways.

He sniffed in the direction between her legs and the harsh sound of inhalation made her afraid she may have misunderstood his intent. She slowly began to close her legs and adjust her shift so her legs were covered. The wolf growled, in disapproval, she suspected. He continued to growl, low at first but gradually building into a rumble, until finally she parted her legs once more, spreading them wider than they were earlier, in compensation. This appeared to pacify him as his growling subsided.

The wolf walked to the head of the bed and nudged her shoulder. He was urging her to move farther back, so she did. Propped up on her elbows, she watched him move close to her foot and push against it. Understanding what he wanted, she raised her foot, only to flinch and pull it away when his wet muzzle made contact with the inside of her ankle. His response was a warning growl. She shook her head. "It tickles," she explained breathily, unaware if he was able to understand words in his wolf form. Remus made it a point to cloister himself during the full moon; with the exception of the incident in her third year, she had no interaction with his wolf.

Hermione questioned her sanity for even thinking about letting the wolf near her, but she was so godsdamned frustrated sexually, her condition exacerbated by the constant sexual tension simmering between Draco and her. She was desperate for release, yet, despite his offer to help, felt far too embarrassed to simply come out and ask him to lend her a hand. But, he was here now and she did not need words to express her needs. That he was in his wolf form made it easier, if anything, as her only interactions with his wolf were of a sexual nature.

The wolf playfully nipped at the inside of her knee, drawing her attention back to him. When they made eye contact, he rubbed his tongue over the small hurt.

Hermione gasped, surprised such an inconspicuous spot on her body could be so arousing. She gasped again when his fur brushed against her inner thigh, and stopped breathing altogether when his muzzle nudged her shift out of the way so she felt his breath on her wet sex, her panties the only barrier between her most vulnerable part and his sharp-looking teeth. She remained frozen, daring not to drop her head to the bed, as his eyes held hers captive.

He ran his muzzle along the length of her thighs and stopped at her hips when he reached her panties. With surprising dexterity, he used one of his claws to slice through her panties and cast them aside so his wet nose now pushed against bare flesh. She let out a strangled moan at the sensation of his smooth tongue pressed flat against her skin as he licked her from the juncture of her thighs to her mons and pushed against her nether lips, doing a thorough job of licking her quim. Finding it too much to both look at the magnificent beast and feel what his mouth was capable of, Hermione dropped back flat on the bed.

Then for no apparent reason, he stopped. She raised herself on her elbows once more and looked at him in confusion as he just stood there, nostrils flared, staring intensely at her. Silently mouthing a single word, she begged him. _Please_.

He bent his head over her privates, tongue poking out to caress and stroke her clit. Hermione gasped, head thrown back, eyes closed at the almost unbearable intensity of the sensation caused by the wolf's long, thick tongue teasing her clit when her body was already so aroused, so sensitive. It was like nothing she had ever experienced.

The alien sensation of his thick wolf tongue finally entering her, made Hermione jerk on the bed like her limbs were taut strings being plucked all at once. Sitting on his haunches, he used his forelimbs to pin her legs in place, leaving her open to him as he sucked on her clit, tongued it, and repeatedly thrust into her cunt. She moaned loudly, fisting the sheets as Draco feasted on her. Lost in the sensation, she could not tell what was his tongue, whiskers, or mouth. She wanted to thrash about, but his weight on her legs prevented her from moving. Her hands abandoned fisting the sheets to play with her nipples instead. She slid one hand up her stomach to reach for a nipple, rolling the nub, she moaned as it hardened under her touch. This was a familiar routine for her, one perfected over the last few weeks as she tried to keep her crazy libido in check.

"Oh gods ... oh yes, oh ... yes!" moaned Hermione. This was so much better than playing with herself, so much better than anything she remembered experiencing.

Her head whipped back and forth, as Draco used his mouth and tongue to drive Hermione closer to the edge. When he abruptly stopped once more, she responded with a guttural cry of frustration.

She found him staring at her hands playing with her nipples over her clothes. He impatiently tugged on her shift, as if he wanted her naked. So close to her orgasm, desperate to have his mouth back on her pussy, she helped him. Hastily, she clutched the edge of the offending garment, pulled it off and tossed it aside. He let out a howl, its melodious tone sounding like he was pleased with her actions. The wolf walked up her body, paws placed on either side so she was trapped between his legs. Her pussy gushed, releasing more of her juices when she realised it was his erect cock, sitting heavy on her stomach.

The wolf did not seem to care for his own needs at the time, his gaze focused on her dark nipples. Her body buckled when one sharp claw teased a puckered bud. She could not imagine the kind of control it took to execute such a move with claws sharp enough to slice off her nipple with a simple flick of the wrist. She shivered at the thought.

His head dropped low over her chest. His long tongue first traced the outline of her breast, sharp teeth dangerously close to her flesh, and then proceeded to lap at her nipples.

She fell back flat against the bed, moaning. Merlin, it felt so good! Desperate for more, she reached for him, burying her hands in his incredibly thick and soft fur. Her fingers clutched at his head holding him against her chest as he took turns lapping at both her nipples in a way that eased the ache but left her wanting more.

The wolf had other ideas, though. Shaking her hands off his head, he moved back to his previous spot between her legs, cock dragging along her stomach.

Hermione's nipples, now covered in the wolf's saliva, hardened painfully as they made contact with the cold night air. She whined at the loss of his mouth from her nipples but groaned in ecstasy, as he wasted no time burying his muzzle in her quim and letting his tongue invade her moist canal once more. The steady motion of that thick appendage, moving in and out, made her eyes roll back in her head. She could feel his tongue curled inside her while his muzzle bumped against her clit. Hermione felt him penetrate her, and between lapping drags and low growls, a pressure began to build. Small shocks of pleasure made her back arch off the bed and her hips excitedly thrust towards him, as the beast eagerly fucked her with his mouth. Soon the sensations grew too strong to bear and with a small scream, Hermione exploded. Somewhere through the haze of her orgasm she heard him noisily lap at the resultant juices of her climax; later, the memory of that erotic sound would often taunt her whenever she tried to achieve climax on her own.

Gasping and shaking, Hermione took some time to catch her breath and settle down. Thoroughly relaxed and sated in the moment, she was just about ready to fall asleep, but she sat up, unsure if he expected her to return the favour in some way. He saw her looking at his cock and repositioned himself so it was no longer visible to her, then gave her a long lick over the side of her face. She squealed and pushed his face away, but let her fingers linger in his fur.

Hermione gave him a lazy smile as she ran her fingers through the fur along his flank and sighed in contentment. Without any thought, she wrapped her arms around his neck and hugged him. "Thank you, Draco," she said to him, continuing to smile. She did not bother getting dressed again. Reaching for the covers, she stretched out on the bed and pulled them over her. Leaving a wolf-sized gap for him to crawl in, she held up one end of the cover in invitation. She did not know why she did it, except it felt wrong to kick him out of bed after he had helped release all that tension built up inside her.

The wolf stood in place, appearing undecided. She could not claim any expertise when it came to lupine facial expressions, but she sensed he was conflicted. She was pleased with his decision when minutes later he settled against her. Dropping the bedcover over them, she snuggled into his warmth and let sleep take her.

She woke up a few hours after sunrise, disappointed to find herself alone in bed and a cold spot where Draco had lain before.


	9. Chapter 9

"I would wish Luna's blessings upon you, except you seem to have already been blessed," Oskar smiled, adding, "doubly so."

"Cora told you then?" Of course, he should have known better than to expect she would keep the news to herself.

For the majority of Cora's life Oskar had been her pack's alpha. The new alpha as well as several of their betas, including Cora's mate, were defeated and killed during the Pack Wars. Even though she accepted Fenrir as her alpha, the old loyalties remained.

"If it's any consolation I am the only other person who knows."

Draco had hoped to be the one to tell Oskar his news once things between Hermione and him were more settled, but he was not angry with Cora for going behind his back, not when he had benefitted so much from her loyalty to Oskar. Cora treated Draco the same way she would any trueborn son of Oskar. For all her teasing, the woman was quite protective of him.

"When you dashed off last night, I thought you were only going to check on your pups and come right back. I didn't think you were going to spend the night with the witch."

"I have no idea what you're talking about."

"Come now, Draco, even if I wasn't your sire, insensitive to your heightened emotions, or if I were a blind man, unable to see the silly grin plastered on your face, I'd still possess the nose of a wolf, I'd smell the witch on you."

Draco was glad his skin lacked the ability to blush, or he would have turned red to the very tips of his ears. His sire was not done, though.

"Not just me, I'm sure every male in the pack would recognise her scent. I remember it all too well from the night she was brought here—heady stuff."

The snarl out of Draco's mouth was pure reflex. Once conscious of his actions, he immediately stopped and apologised to Oskar.

"Relax, pup. You'll have no competition from me. I've had no interest in breeding or bed sport since I lost my mate, but it doesn't mean I don't notice things."

Draco said nothing. He used to be better at hiding his emotions, but pack life had softened him to some extent. After they beat the snobbery out of him, they helped him realise how pointless it was to fake emotions with members of his pack; but with the increasing visits from the Death Eaters and his growing feelings for Hermione, perhaps it was time to remember those old lessons Lucius had once taught him.

"Draco, I hope you haven't completely lost the cunning of the snake after you found your wolf."

"What do you mean?" He asked Oskar.

"Your brothers may keep their distance now, but as the time for the birth of your pups draws close, they will attempt to woo her or find other ways to ensure they get to be the next one to knot with the fertile witch who can bear them children. You know Fenrir has promised the entire pack their turn with—"

Draco was unable to hold back the growl those words produced. He was aware of course; he was present when Fenrir made the announcement to the pack.

_"It worked! The Dark Lord took worthless filth and made it fit to carry our children. It's true. The Mudblood is pregnant. So, serve me, your alpha, well and I'll make sure each of you gets the chance to fuck their pups into her."_

Shortly after the announcement, Fenrir had gifted Draco a freshly bit female as his 'treat' for getting the 'Mudblood' pregnant. The only reason the alpha had not put a stop to Draco's interactions with Hermione was because he had no inkling of his beta's true feelings. Fenrir still thought of him as Lucius Malfoy's spoilt brat who presumably would be disgusted with having anything to do with a Muggleborn.

"As far as the pack is concerned, she's not one of us. She's just a vessel we've been gifted to produce our children."

"But, that's not what you think?" he asked hesitantly, uncertain if Oskar would understand or consider his thoughts treason against the pack.

"No," he answered with certainty, "I don't think Hermione will be able to conceive someone else's child just like I don't believe you'll be able to impregnate any other female."

His wolf whined in agreement. It had told him the same all the times he mated with the other females that were not Hermione.

"We live in times when lycanthropy is no more than an infection, when once Lycans were a species. In these modern times, most shifters do not even have the fortune of living in a pack, let alone receiving the guidance of an Elder who can teach them our forgotten history. Do you remember the stories I told you?"

Draco nodded. Of course, he remembered. Once he got accustomed to pack life, Oskar had felt it necessary he familiarise himself with their myths and legends, or 'history' as Oskar referred to it. On numerous occasions he had the opportunity to listen to Oskar tell the pups of the pack the story of their creation.

_"Long before any wizard walked the earth, blessed Luna created a perfect blend of man and creature, for she so favoured both she could not choose one over the other. She gave her creations one soul with a dual nature that existed harmoniously within a single body capable of shifting to reflect the duality within. Each breed was given one alpha to lead and protect them in place of Luna. _

_"Over time while the other breeds quickly went extinct, it was only the werewolf who was able to adapt and exist as Luna intended. An age came and went by, and the werewolves lived on. Strong individually, as a pack they were far too strong to be defeated by any natural predator. That changed with the appearance of wizardkind._

_"Unfortunately for us, the first few interactions wizards had with our kind were limited to outcasts, who in their maddened state lost touch with their human side and craved human flesh as compensation. The things wizards truly feared about us hold true for our kind, even today. They fear our ability to wield magic without a conduit. Our bonds fortify our minds so we are immune to any kind of mind controlling or altering spell a wizard can cast, and our bodies are naturally strong enough to bounce off most curses without the use of a defence spell. _

_"Their fear led to the wizards developing curses, which first rendered us incapable of reproducing children who bore our dual nature, to eventually being incapable of producing children at all. Our Elders cried out to Luna, who in her mercy promised that if we lived by her rules and mated under her light we would have children who were either wizard or wolf, so our children escaped persecution. Luna has kept her promise, but over the centuries, Lycanthropes went from being a thriving species to nothing but a disease. As the winners, the wizards wiped traces of us from the earth nearly as much as they did from history." _

To Draco, Oskar's tale sounded just as fantastic as any bedtime story his mother had read to him from The Tales of Beedle the Bard. While fun to listen to, they could hardly be considered to hold any kind of historical accuracy. It was true that the winners of a war altered history, and it was likely that when wizards appeared on the scene they were a predatory species that led to the extinction of some other species, but he could not imagine them doing so through curses that affected progeny. His knowledge of the Dark Arts was rather extensive, yet he had not come across a curse having the ability Oskar described. Then again, he had never once imagined the possibility of something as foul as a horcrux existing until he failed to protect one of the cursed pieces of the Dark Lord's soul.

Noticing Oskar was still waiting for a response, Draco nodded.

"If these _experiments _of the Dark one are successful, he won't be creating anything new—simply returning to us an ability we once possessed. But children will always only be born to those blessed by Luna. It is why out of all the females and males who have taken the potion till now, only your witch was able to conceive children. I believe the moon goddess favours your union."

"What are you saying, Oskar? What about the pack?"

_"_You wear your mask well, pup, but I can sense your feelings for the witch. Win her heart, bond with her. The pack will leave her alone in recognition of your claim."

—

Oskar watched Draco leave and wondered if it was too soon to tell him about the prophecy, even though he had already fulfilled his role in it. The former alpha never imagined he would live to see the prophecy come to pass; he thanked Luna for her blessings and fulfilling the promise made to his kind so long ago.

He would heed the centaurs warning; one was more likely to fulfil the undesirable parts of a prophesy while attempting to circumvent it. Hermione was the key and he had given the pup a nudge in the right direction. He would just have to wait and watch their destinies unfold.

* * *

"Do you know her personally?" asked Gunnolf. They were discussing arrangements for the prisoner due to arrive later this week.

"No, not personally," replied Draco. He had only seen her across the Great Hall at Hogwarts. There had never been any cause for them to interact in the past.

"Well, as far as orders go we've got to make sure she and the baby stays alive. We also need to keep her presence here a secret. No one, other than the pack, is to know she's been moved here."

"So, we're keeping it from the Black Cloaks and the Death Eaters?"

"Yes. It's best that way. Fenrir says, after the celebration at Godric's hollow a few of them grew fixated with her. They took to visiting her even after she was given to your father. While they made sure there was no room to doubt the paternity of the child, they found other ways to use her... Lord Malfoy was concerned she'd miscarry or die if she continued to suffer their attentions."

"Ah! I wondered why Lucius would want to move her from Chateau Lestrange to Bleidd Castle of all places," stated Draco.

"What do you mean?" asked Gunnolf, clueless still to the way the minds of the Death Eaters worked.

"Let's just say the old guard is either too scared or too prejudiced to enter werewolf territory unless their Master orders them to do so."

"I don't get it. We work with them. They know what we're capable of, how can they believe the things about us they do?"

Draco chuckled at Gunnolf's bewilderment. "Take my word for it; we're better off if they don't want to associate with us."

"But it isn't just that. Their strategies in battle do not account for our true strengths. We can do so much more!"

"Do you really want to help the Death Eaters win in their cause?" asked Draco, making sure to keep the alarm out of his voice. It had never occurred to him that Gunnolf might be sympathetic to the Dark side.

"It's not about the cause, it's about winning. If I'm going to send pack members on a mission, I want to do whatever achieves the best outcome with the least amount of damage to the pack."

Of course! He should have known Gunnolf would not care for the politics involved. For the head beta, everything boiled down to executing an order while seeing to the safety of the pack. Draco knew from experience how misguided it was to think that way. He himself had helped the Dark Lord's cause in order to protect his mother and himself, but his actions had ultimately led to such pain and suffering being brought to their world, starting with the death of his Headmaster and leading to the fall of Hogwarts. Was it worth it, was a question he often asked himself and he did not possess half the scruples Gunnolf did.

Gunnolf, mistaking the reason for his silence, asked, "Are you okay with this move, Draco? I try to keep out of matters that don't concern me, but you're my second, so I need to know you're okay. I can always have one of the other betas handle the arrangements."

Was he okay knowing that soon he would be tasked with protecting the woman that carried his father's unborn heir?

Sure. He knew Lucius well enough to know he was not moving her here out of concern for her safety or the wellbeing of his unborn heir. Lucius's actions, as usual, were motivated by his desire not to fail his Master in the task he was assigned. Although to be fair to Lucius, and speaking from experience, the Dark Lord was not in the habit of showing mercy to those who failed him.

Draco waved his hand in dismissal. "I'm okay, but that wouldn't matter anyway as I have my own orders from Lucius; he's tasked me with her security."

Gunnolf raised his eyebrows in response. Handsome though he was the effect was nearly comical on his face.

"I received an owl a few nights ago. I was reminded that even if I was no longer the heir I still bore a duty towards my family."

After being cast aside as he was, the missive from Lucius reminding him of his duties as a Malfoy felt like a mockery. Draco no longer referred to the man as father—the word made him feel too raw, too hurt and disappointed, to care for its use. When his pups came, Draco planned to be more like Oskar or Severus, the men who had treated him the way a father rightly ought to.

"Come on," said Gunnolf, standing up, "we've got a few minutes to spare; I reckon a few rounds of grappling and throwing punches would do us some good right now."

* * *

Draco spent the day feeling restless. He was eager to go see Hermione, but as Cora advised, he wanted to give her some space, and as Oskar had reminded him, it wasn't just his future at stake. Without the protection of a mate-bond, the pack's males would consider Hermione fair game. He could keep fighting for her, like he had the first time, but for how long? No, the best option was to court her as best as he could in their current situation and bond with her.

He was sorely tempted, though, to go to her and repeat the actions of the previous night, this time in his human form. Of all the ways he had imagined things progressing between them, he never expected her to accept his wolf form first. Even more shocking, was the invitation to sleep beside her; he suspected she surprised herself as well in that.

Wonderful as it felt to have her peacefully asleep snuggled into his side, her naked bum pressed against his human cock, he made sure to leave her bed at sunrise. The wolf was too sated to pester him about the cowardly way he left her bed, but the wizard was afraid. Afraid he would see bright eyes clouded with regret, afraid she would reject the man where she accepted the beast. It was easier to leave with doubts than face potential rejection.

He kept his distance from Hermione the first day and the next but by the third day, he could no longer stand the constant feeling of being on edge and went to her quarters in time for her daily walk. Draco did not know what he expected to happen when he saw her again, but he was not expecting her to greet him and fall into their usual discourse as if things were no different now than they were three days ago. Her failure to acknowledge what transpired between them made him bristle internally. Did she imagine it did not count since he was in his wolf form at the time?

To add to his state of agitation, Hermione kept brushing against him as they walked, licking her lips mid-sentence, playing with the ends of her hair and worst of all, baring her neck like a complete tease. It may all have been done subconsciously on her part, but it was testing his resolution to wait for her to make the next move. Draco could smell her desire, but instead of simply asking for the fucking she was clearly in need of, to his astonishment, Hermione Granger was playing coy. It was hard to follow her monologue on the convention-defying thirteenth use of dragon's blood when all he wanted to do was shove her against the wall, rip off her panties, then sink his cock into her moist cunt and pound away till her throat grew sore from screeching his name.

Draco was trying, really trying to be a sensitive wizard, but the creature side of him could not let her think she could get away with such insolence consequence-free. He let out a low growl, not that different from the one he used with her in his wolf form, and was rewarded with the sight of her nipples visibly tightening in response. Even though her womb was already heavy with pups, her responses were like a bitch in heat: aroused... helpless... submissive.

Grabbing her by the hips, Draco walked Hermione backwards until he had her pressed against the wall of an alcove, away from prying eyes. Palms placed flat against the wall, on either side of her head, had her caged in but free to move if she wanted.

"You have me feeling very conflicted," he began to explain. "Here I've been trying my damndest to give you your space and wait for you to come to me, and nothing," he said, staring down at her. "But, then, my wolf turns up in the middle of the night and," he lowered his voice, "you're surprisingly _responsive_."

He paused, jaw clenched in his effort to resist the urge to nibble on the skin of her lovely neck she unwittingly offered in the moment.

"I don't know if you'd rather have me wait till you ask or if you want me to simply give you what you need." He could not resist thrusting his pelvis so she could feel his erection against her hip. She whimpered softly.

"Guess your Gryffindor courage does fail you sometimes, Granger."

He grabbed a fistful of her hair, pulling hard enough to yank her head forward but not enough to hurt. His lips grazed her ear when he next spoke. "I've decided to take your silence as a yes. If you want me to stop, now is the time to say so." He looked her challengingly in the eye, half of him hell-bent on asserting his dominance, the other half afraid he'd lose control and go too far.

In response, her eyes fluttered shut and her mouth fell open on a silent gasp. Clearly, he would not be getting any verbal consent from her.

"Alright. Spread your legs, Granger," he ordered, maintaining a firm grip on her hair. "Yeah, that's it. Good girl," he praised. "Now raise your skirt for me."

From the way her eyes darted around, he understood her hesitation. "Go on, no one can see you. It's just me." With his assurance, she continued to do as told. "Now, touch yourself. I want to see if you're wet enough."

While she snuck her fingers into her panties to touch herself, he raised the index and middle finger of his free hand to her mouth. "Here, lick this for me, will you?"

She wrapped her lips around his fingers and slid them up and down, in a manner that gave a wizard ideas.

"Yeah, just like that," he moaned, grinding his erection into her hip imagining it was his cock she was lavishing such attention on. "Show me your fingers. Show me how wet you are," he demanded.

She lifted her fingers, slick with her juices, which he tasted with a flick of his tongue. His eyes remained focused on her face, studying her responses as he removed his fingers from her mouth and walked them slowly down her rounded belly and towards the vee of her thighs. She must have lowered her panties for easier access as his hand came to a rest over her mound unimpeded. Her hips bucked in eagerness.

His fingers began to tap on her clit while he nipped at her earlobe, sucking on the tender piece of flesh. Hermione moaned and spread her legs further apart. Instead of giving her what she wanted, Draco continued to tap on her clit.

Again, Hermione bucked her hips, trying to force his fingers to slide to where she needed them, but failed since he stood to her side and kept her pinned to the wall at an odd angle that gave her no purchase.

Her continued struggle to move his fingers to where she wanted them made Draco nip at her jaw. "Not before I think you're ready, witch," he told her.

Tapping away on her clit with one finger, he pinched the piece of flesh between two others, sliding them back and forth, until they were slick with her honey. Only when he sensed her whole body tense with arousal did he let his fingers slide further down and push inside her. He did not ease into her a finger at a time. He thrust two fingers at once in an attempt to stretch her out. The walls of her pussy clung to his fingers, making him wish once again it were his cock instead.

By now, Draco was aware he was humping against her hip like some untried virgin, but it was better than nothing, and definitely better than scaring her off by trying to fuck her senseless like he most definitely wanted to.

Draco buried his face in the space between her neck and shoulder inhaling her scent as he pumped his fingers into her. He nipped at her delicate collarbones, more pronounced because of all the weight she had lost. He felt terrible when he remembered Cora's suspicions related to Hermione's health and made a mental note to take her advice on the matter. He grew distracted when she moaned loudly and squeezed her hand between their bodies to palm his cock over his clothes.

"Fuck!" he cried out, taken aback by this bold move after the timidity displayed so far. Not keen on spilling in his pants, Draco let go of her hair and pulled her hand away from his cock. He guided each of her hands to play with each one of her nipples, and then wrapped a hand around her waist, holding her close, while the other hand pumped his fingers inside her faster still. Soon as he sensed her at the edge of her climax, he stilled his fingers inside her to push a third finger in, making her nearly breathless with how stuffed she felt.

"Too much," she mouthed, fingers letting go of her nipples to seek purchase on his shoulders.

"That's it," he encouraged, feeling her hips move to accommodate him, "take me in." He moved to stand before her now, his cock pushing against the swell of her belly while his fingers continued to lazily fuck and stretch her.

"You like it now, don't you? Being stretched?" he moaned against her neck, running his tongue along the length of it. "Enjoy my fingers in your cunny, fucking you? It's so much better than doing it yourself, right?" he asked nipping at her earlobe once more. "But as good as it feels, I promise it'll be better when I have my cock inside you. Would you like that, Granger... my cock stretching you instead of my fingers?"

Her hips buckling, coupled with the broken whimper that escaped her lips, gave him his answer.

He continued to sniff at and lick her skin, not getting enough of Hermione's scent or taste. Just as her fingers dug into his shoulders and she threw her head back, on the brink of her orgasm, his thumb flicked her clit until she shattered in release.

Draco lowered his head and pressed his lips to hers in time to capture her moans as she climaxed around his fingers. The kiss started as a chaste brush of lips as she ground her pubis against his palm in an effort to prolong her orgasm. While she was still trying to catch her breath, he gently sucked on her upper lip, tracing her cupid's bow with his tongue. He teased her lower lip by lightly tugging the fleshy centre with his teeth, before licking it with his tongue. As he continued to kiss her, she became less distracted by her orgasm and more engaged, her hands abandoning his shoulders to hold his face. When his tongue slipped into her mouth to taste her, she reciprocated by sucking on the organ, even biting at the tip with a degree of aggression that made him pull back and give her a questioning look. It was not anger that he found, her eyes were lit with mischief as she rose on her toes and pulled his mouth back to hers. He withdrew his fingers from her snatch and used both hands to hold her waist.

The kiss they shared was not rushed or heated; it was merely an exploration, each trying to learn how the other liked to be kissed. The nearly studious manner in which she went about it would have unnerved Draco if he were not distracted by the delightful way her lips moved against his. Too late, he remembered he was supposed to be asserting his dominance over her; instead, he had ended up putty in her small hands as they fluttered from his hair to his jaw, from his chest to his cheek.

Draco knew then, he was never going to forget this, the first time he was kissed by Hermione Granger.


	10. Chapter 10

"So?" asked Draco, wanting to hear Cora's verdict after her official examination of the new prisoner.

"In terms of physical health, she's doing fine," said Cora. Draco thought she was done, but after a brief pause, she resumed speaking. "Beauty like hers is a curse in these dark times," she said, her voice heavily tinged with pity. "They used her repeatedly and, if the build up of scar tissues I saw is any kind of indication, quite brutally." Draco did not miss the way she shuddered when she spoke. "It's clear they attempted to heal her afterwards, they just did not leave her alone long enough for the healing process to complete."

Draco did not need to hear the specifics from Cora. As one of the branded, numerous revels had demanded his attendance in the past where he had a front row seat to what was considered entertainment by so many Death Eaters. If he had not already begun to question the rightfulness of their cause before, he certainly did after attending one of those depraved events. However, back then things were still relatively tame compared to now, without fear of reprisal, there were no longer any restraints on the Death Eaters inhumane acts.

"Here," said Draco, giving her the scroll he held in his hand. "It came in today's owl post. He's listed the things she was treated for in the last month alone."

Cora skimmed the text quickly, the look of horror on her face increasing as she read each detail. Her reaction was unexpected, considering what she knew of the atrocities committed against their own kind in the dungeons.

"But this is so senseless... Why would they do such a thing?"

_Ah_, it wasn't so much what was done, but the fact that it served no purpose that upset Cora more than anything else.

"Who are these monsters?" she asked with a shaky breath.

It was a rhetorical question. Draco attempted to answer anyway, it was better if Cora knew what they were dealing with. "Seeing as how Lucius chose to hide her here of all places, my guess is they're high-ranking Death Eaters, part of the inner circle most likely." At Cora's questioning glance, he added, "Only a member of equal rank would dare touch something belonging to the Malfoys without their consent." The only exception, as Draco knew all too well, was unless they were acting under orders from the Dark Lord.

It was the protection offered by their evil overlord's command that lend lesser wizards, like his former housemates Flint and Pucey, the audacity to bind Draco and throw him in a pit of werewolves during the full moon. When the Dark Lord had effectively sentenced him to death or a life as good as, Draco had quickly realised how friendless he truly was with Severus gone. His father had stood to the side, trying to look as inconspicuous as possible lest the sins of his son be visited upon him. His mother had looked devastated and poised to speak in his defence but was temporarily petrified by the Dark Lord himself, while his crazy Aunt Bella gleefully tossed a crucio at Draco making it that much easier for others to overpower him.

"Whatever your father's reasons—"

Cora's voice drew him out of his grim musing.

"—keeping her here will do her a world of good. The males of the pack won't take any interest in a pregnant human even if they go into a rut. And, I hear our _guests_ have not been alerted to her presence."

He nodded. As much as the Death Eaters thought they ran Bleidd Castle, they only saw what the pack and Fenrir allowed them to see

"Are you okay with her being here? She's carrying your father's heir, surely—"

"Two years ago, I may have felt differently. As things stand today, I pity her."

Unbelievable though it sounded, it was true. Draco was certain Lucius did not care for the woman or the child in her womb. Tasked with producing a _proper _heir by his Lord, Lucius was only afraid someone would break the toy he had been gifted for that express purpose, before he was able to do so.

"I'm glad to hear you say that," she said, shiny eyes reflecting how proud she was of him.

He looked away, unsettled. Moments like these only reminded him of just how much he missed his own mother.

"Have you given some thought to moving her in with Hermione?" she asked him a little later.

"Yes. I'm going to tell Hermione. Let her decide."

* * *

"I came, as soon as I heard," said Draco, rushing towards Hermione while she was taking a stroll in the courtyard.

These days she had little supervision when they let her out for her walk. Either they must trust her to remain compliant or they considered her harmless. She took advantage of this newfound liberty to discreetly explore areas along her daily path. Every vantage point she could gain access to, she used to develop a mental map of the castle, paying close attention to the activity of birds and other small animals on the grounds surrounding Bleidd to narrow down spots where the magical barrier might be most susceptible. Hermione strongly believed in being prepared so she memorised the quickest and least guarded paths that would lead her out of the castle, should she ever find an opportunity to escape.

The destination of today's amble was a tall tower, which appeared to be unguarded the last time she had passed this way. She was looking forward to checking it out as the looming structure promised an unimpeded view of the adjoining lands. She nearly jumped out of her skin at the sound of Draco's voice. She started to walk away from the tower, hoping he had not noticed her attention in it.

"They said you had another one of those spasms while I was away. Are you okay?" he asked, easily falling in step beside her.

"Yes," said Hermione, dismissing his concern with a wave of her hand. She'd had one of those episodes yesterday, but Draco was only hearing about it now... What had taken him away from Bleidd for a whole day? As far as she knew, he had not left the castle since she arrived.

"I called for you, but an old man arrived instead." And what a peculiar old man he had been. Long grey hair with a distinct white streak that looked like it ran all the way down his back; regal and graceful bearings despite his stooped frame and casual clothes; and clear blue eyes that twinkled in a manner so similar to her old headmaster, it made Hermione stop to wonder what kind of secrets this man would carry to his grave someday.

"Did he say or do anything?" asked Draco, his tone implying he knew whom she spoke of.

"Nothing alarming. He said you were away and asked me to remain calm ...then he placed his hands on my belly"—it still struck her as odd that she had felt no apprehension over a strange man touching her uninvited—"and spoke in some European language... Norwegian... or Swedish perhaps?" Noticing his body grow tense, she quickly explained, "It wasn't anything bad. Soon after he spoke, the pain subsided. This may sound crazy, but I got the feeling he somehow told the babies to behave." Things like that were unheard of, but so was a wolf impregnating a witch.

"That's Oskar, my sire," Draco explained.

_Curious._

Hermione had presumed Fenrir to be the culprit. The old man who had visited her, Oskar, did not strike her as the kind of unhinged individual who went around biting and infecting people with lycanthropy on a whim. Interested though she was in the story, there were other questions she wanted to ask him.

"You know, I never see any of you use your wands. Don't you miss magic?"

He appeared to contemplate answering her question before he spoke.

"House-elves don't use wands either, do they?"

Hermione paused mid-step and watched him, dumbstruck as the meaning of his words sank in.

"You're able to perform _wandless_ magic!"

"Not all of it," he said, turning around when he realised she had fallen behind, "just the more basic day-to-day spells."

_But Remus always uses a wand._

"I think you'll find our old professor is an exception in many ways," said Draco, correctly guessing her thoughts. He came to her so they were walking side-by-side again. "I can't say if Lupin's abilities didn't develop because he hasn't accepted his nature or lived in a pack—or if he's simply concealing his abilities around others—all I can say for certain is that I had little if any success casting spells without a wand, until I bonded with Fenrir and the pack. Now, performing wandless and nonverbal magic feels about as complex as casting a lumos in third year."

Hermione thought to ask Draco where he kept his wand, or any of the wands for that matter. The only wandmakers alive had either escaped to safety overseas or gone into hiding with the Order, leaving Voldemort's minions in short supply of wands. Consequently, they began recycling confiscated wands, no longer able to afford the luxury of crushing their enemy by destroying their wand. Hermione was certain her dear ten and three-quarters inches of vine wood with a dragon heartstring still lay intact somewhere. If the werewolves had no use for their wands, the Death Eaters might have claimed them too. Maybe through some subtle enquiries she could get Draco to reveal where her wand might be.

Before she could ask him anything, Draco dropped a bombshell on her.

"There's something I need to talk to you about," he said, hands held stiffly behind his back while he stared into the distance ahead.

"Oh yeah?" Hermione tried to sound casual despite the ominous tone of his words.

"It's about—" he started, then stopped, then opened his mouth, looking like he was going to say something, only to slam it shut again.

He walked quicker, appearing mildly agitated as he ran his long fingers through his hair. His hair was a bit longer now and unkempt compared to how he wore it at school. She thought it made him look far more appealing than the well-groomed version of himself. Twice since the night of the full moon, Draco had helped relieve her sexual frustration and both times, she had enjoyed tugging on his hair, relishing the feel of the silken strands between her fingers.

"Well, perhaps I should give you a little background first," said Draco, coming to a stop and interrupting her thoughts before they took on a more lascivious tone.

"Okay," she said, recognising his need to get something off his chest.

"You may have deduced from my current circumstances that my position in my family has been altered dramatically since my change—"

She nodded in acknowledgment.

"But, I doubt you've given much thought to the impact my change has had on my family. See, my status as a werewolf means I'm not _Pure _enough to be the Malfoy heir. Lucius Malfoy has a sacred duty to uphold our family traditions. He _must_ produce a proper heir, but my mother..."

He looked away and began to walk again. "My mother," he began, then swallowed hard and was silent once more. Though his face remained a blank mask, Hermione suspected he was feeling emotional.

They turned a corner, walking in silence for a few minutes before he attempted to articulate his thoughts once more. "See, after me, my parents conceived another child," he told her in a quiet voice. "Unfortunately, the baby, my sister, was stillborn. There were _complications_ due to which my mother cannot have any more children. I suppose it's why she's always doted on me so much." Draco stood still, silent again. There was a distant look in his eyes and one corner of his mouth turned up as if he were lost in some fond memory. She patiently waited for him to continue.

Draco's eyes finally rested on her and he appeared to remember where he was. He shook his head and resumed their stroll.

"You may find this hard to believe, based on what you know of Lucius, but he loves my mother. So much, he'd never consider leaving her or taking another woman ...but he also cannot ignore his duty." He paused again, this time his expression more pensive.

"Excuse my seemingly disjointed thoughts. I'm trying to decide what facts are relevant ...or even facts at all. There's so much disinformation out there, and with my lack of standing with the Death Eaters, I can't know for certain what is true and what is propaganda. The thing I do know is that the number of Pureblood women of childbearing years is startlingly low. Low enough, it is now forbidden to execute any fertile Pure women, whatever their crime. Instead the Dark Lord has taken to rewarding his most loyal servants by gifting them female Pureblood prisoners to breed."

So she wasn't the only one, thought Hermione. While Voldemort may have found her too dirty for the Death Eaters, apparently they were other women out there in a situation similar to hers.

"Quite recently, Lucius was given just such a prisoner—a Pureblood witch, he could breed to beget a Pure child... She now carries Lucius's heir."

Ah, so that's what this was about; he was upset over being replaced so easily and looking to vent.

It had not skipped her attention that Draco did not refer to Lucius as father anymore. However, conflicted as she was regarding her feelings for Draco, did she at all feel bad for his loss of status as the Malfoy heir?

_Not really._

While Draco was different now, as the Malfoy heir he had shown himself to be a gullible, easily misled, bigot who for a while was happy to adopt his Pure family's genocidal ideologies. If there was anyone Hermione felt any compassion towards, it was for the poor woman forced to carry his father's child.

Finding it hard to feign sympathy, she avoided eye contact by staring at the ground and nodded.

"Lucius decided to move the prisoner since her presence upset my mother. I imagine she didn't like seeing proof of her husband's infidelity or the reminder of her own inability to have children. It probably didn't help that the woman is the same age my sister would be, had she lived."

Under different circumstances, Hermione might have pitied a woman in Narcissa's situation, but she could not pity Narcissa, not when she remembered Luna's descriptions of how the woman had only cared about her precious carpet being ruined by the bloody mess Bellatrix was making while she tortured Neville, a boy the same age as her son, with the cruciatus curse. If not for Dobby's sacrifice in helping Harry and the rest escape captivity in Malfoy Manor, Neville would have certainly ended up in the same state as his parents. Even now, Narcissa stood by while some innocent suffered at her husband's hands.

"This particular witch belongs to one of the Sacred Twenty-Eight," continued Draco. "She possesses a unique beauty the Death Eaters find appealing, despite her blood-traitor status—"

Hermione racked her brains as she struggled to keep up with Draco's longer strides. There was no Sacred Twenty-Eight Pureblood snob she would describe as a 'unique beauty', certainly no one sympathetic enough to the Order's cause to have earned a blood-traitor status.

"—Even though others were supposed to wait their turn and not touch her till she gave birth to Lucius' heir, on several occasions they forced themselves on her."

His words made Hermione selfishly ponder her own future; what would become of her after she gave birth to Draco's babies. What was it Greyback had said to her the first night ... something about using her to breed litter after litter until she could no more...

She shuddered, but Draco was too caught up in his tale to notice.

"People who know the location of Bleidd Castle have certain ideas about werewolves. They don't come here, unless on a mission from the Dark Lord," he said, walking faster than she would have liked as they began to circle back to where they had begun their stroll. "For those reasons, Lucius decided to move his prisoner here. He thinks this place can serve as a safe haven for his future heir. As a Malfoy, he expects me to do my duty to my kin and keep a watchful eye over the witch."

Hermione was taken aback at the venom in Draco's voice. As a young boy, he had always been so proud and boastful when speaking of his family, his father in particular. She could not imagine how much they must have disappointed him to cause such a drastic change.

"There is a point to telling you all of this," he said, tilting his head to look her in the eye. "I want you to understand—I think it's important for you to understand her circumstances if you are to live with her." He ran his fingers through his hair, nearly yanking on the strands in his aggravated state.

"Live with her?" she asked, puzzled.

"Yes, I thought you may like having some company."

That was a complete non sequitur. What did she have to do with this woman? Although he did have a point, she would like some company, and if the woman was a prisoner, she had quite likely done something to piss off either the Death Eaters or Voldemort himself. Hermione could picture herself getting along just fine with such a person.

She hummed in agreement.

"I don't want to alarm you, but I believe you should know what to expect when you see her. I'm going to give you whatever information I've gathered, based on what others have told me, including Cora's inspection of the prisoner."

All at once, Hermione grew aware of the red flags that had popped in her head throughout Draco's telling. She could not tell what it was yet, but sensed this other prisoner was significant in some other way.

"You probably have some idea what takes place during the Revels?" He waited for her nod before he continued. "Well, Lucius' prisoner is connected to the Order. After she was captured, they held a huge revel in Godric's Hollow. They made a public spectacle of her rape, hoping to draw out members of the Order."

Alarm bells sounded off in her head, the significance of Godric's Hollow not lost on Hermione. She did not know of any Order member being raped there, which meant this took place after her own capture.

"She was given to Lucius shortly after the _event _at Godric's Hollow. She was placed in a magical sleep for nearly a month to treat her initial injuries." A chill ran down Hermione's spine imagining the kind of torture the poor soul must have endured to need so much time to recover in the magical realm where bones could be made to regrow overnight.

"Because of how much it upset my mother, Lucius moved his prisoner to Chateau Lestrange as soon as the pregnancy was confirmed—" Order members were well acquainted with the history and habits of members of Voldemort's inner circle; Hermione knew Draco was referring to the countryseat of the Lestrange brothers, Rodolphus and Rabastan. "—I hear some of the higher ranking Death Eaters grew obsessed with the witch after the revel at Godric's Hollow. Since Lucius didn't reside at the chateau, they took advantage of his absence; she was repeatedly raped and abused. Cora says they were careful with her face, but the rest of her..."

Hermione struggled to repress the terror the half-painted picture evoked in her. Was this the fate she escaped when she was given to the wolves ...or was it a fate only delayed until Draco was done with her?

"I wanted to prepare you, give you an idea of what to expect. I don't want you hurting yourself from the shock of finding her so altered."

Draco kept dropping hints she personally knew the mystery witch. Someone who was a member of the Sacred Twenty-Eight with close ties to the Order, a unique beauty who was a little younger than Draco and raped publically in Godric's Hollow of all places—

_Merlin! _How could it have taken her this long to figure it out?

"Ginny!" she gasped. Draco looked at her with compassion in his eyes and nodded.

"No," she said, shaking her head. All of a sudden, it was too hard to breathe.

She was glad for Draco's arms around her that lend her support as he guided her to the nearest bench.

"But she escaped!" Hermione was certain Ginny had slipped away during her duel with the Death Eaters.

He shook his head. "The two of you were captured the same night, from the same spot. They made a big deal about it—special edition of the Prophet, special news broadcast on the radio. While Death Eaters no longer see the Order as any kind of threat, the capture of two high-ranking members, especially ones directly connected to Potter, was celebrated as a huge victory. There was quite the build-up before Godric's Hollow. I suspect they only gave you to us because they had her as bait for Potter."

She caught the unspoken implication; if Ginny had not been captured, Hermione would have faced a similar fate, or worse. One thought kept nagging away at her, if the Death Eaters had turned Ginny's rape into a publicised event, surely news had reached the Order, surely some of the Order members had attempted a rescue, definitely one of the Weasleys, or even...

"...Harry?" she asked, grief-stricken, unable to fathom what it meant if Harry had taken the bait and got himself caught. Her chest constricted at the idea of anything happening to Harry. He represented the living hope that they would defeat Voldemort someday.

"Potter never showed up. As far as I know, no one from the Order showed up."

Hermione inhaled sharply, trying to figure out what it meant that none of the Weasleys had attempted a rescue.

"I'm sure, now more than ever, you're eager to escape from here," said Draco, with uncharacteristic tenderness. "But, Hermione"—she looked up, startled; she didn't think he had ever addressed her by her given name before—"right now Bleidd Castle may be the safest place for you to be."

She was ready to protest, except, he did have a point. She could not imagine what kind of adversity would have prevented the Order from attempting a rescue of Ginny. Even if she did manage to escape and find the Order, she would only be a liability in her pregnant state ...and who knows how they would treat the babies once their father's identity became known. Lastly, she had yet to work out who could be the traitor in the Order, the one who had led Ginny and her into the trap that resulted in their capture.

She could stay here and gather intelligence until it was time to give birth. After the babies were born, she and Ginny could plan their escape. While she hated the idea of abandoning her children, it would be for the best. The werewolves would welcome her babies and no doubt, Draco would make an excellent father.

Thinking of the grim options before her, and Ginny's current state, Hermione sagged in defeat, only to find herself propped against Draco's sturdy chest. She let out a sigh at the feel of his arms wrapping around her reassuringly, the tightness in her chest eased by his gesture. How strange was this new world they lived in, where Draco Malfoy had become her source of comfort and strength.


	11. Chapter 11

AN: I've tried to limit graphic descriptions of non-con in this chapter, but some may still find it upsetting to read. So be warned.

* * *

Hermione retched into the toilet. Distantly she could hear Ginny doing the same. After a few moments, she waddled—her belly too big now to walk normally—to Ginny's bed. Still in her first trimester, Ginny's health had improved a great deal in the month since her arrival at Bleidd castle, but the poorly executed healing spells her tormentors would hastily apply each time they were done with her, though lifesaving had maimed her for life.

Even after being told what to expect, seeing Ginny for the first time since the night they were captured had been a shock.

_Hermione watched in disbelief as a spectre bearing a resemblance to Ginny Weasley hobbled into the room. This impersonator possessed none of the redhead's radiance or liveliness. She stood with her shoulders stooped, hands meekly clasped in front of her, head bowed down and eyes trained on the floor. Even her signature red hair was missing, shorn to the point one could see the patches of skin, previously burnt and poorly healed, on her scalp._

_"Ginny," she called out softly, afraid the littlest thing could destroy this frail creature before her._

_The spectre looked up. If her appearance had been shocking before, what Hermione saw in the other woman's face horrified her. Gone was the light from the witch's eyes that reflected her fiery nature so brilliantly and had caused many a wizard to trip over himself to gain her attention. In its stead was this dead-eyed gaze, watching without really seeing anything. Hermione grew aware of the reedy quality of the other witch's breathing—caused by a damaged lung or an injured voice box, it was hard to tell. Probably the latter, going by the three lines on her neck, clearly the handiwork of someone practicing their precision with casting a diffindo._

_Hermione wanted nothing more in the moment than to hug her friend, who looked like she had been through far too much for any person to endure in several lifetimes, but Draco had passed on Cora's warning that Ginny did not respond well to being touched, so she remained at arm's length. Ginny continued to stare at her for several minutes without showing any signs of recognition._

_"Gin, it's me, Hermione... Remember, your bushy-haired friend you've wasted copious amounts of your own personal rations of Sleekeasy to help catch Ron's attention?" Hermione attempted to sound cheery and smile at her friend but it was hard to pull off while her eyes were misty with unshed tears._

_Ginny continued to stare at her but Hermione thought she saw something flicker in those dull eyes as they slowly blinked. Ginny opened her mouth to speak. At first, no sound came out and when it did, it was hoarse, most likely from lack of use. _

_"Hermione?" she asked in a whisper, as if afraid the dream would fade if she spoke too loud._

_Eyes welling up with tears, Hermione nodded. She longed to hug the other witch so much, her arms physically hurt from restraining herself._

_"You're real?"_

_"Yeah, Gin, it's me, alright."_

_"Oh thank Merlin!" Ginny cried out and flung her arms around Hermione, nearly suffocating her with how fiercely she clung to her. "I knew I'd be rescued. I knew you wouldn't abandon me. Where are my brothers?" she asked, letting go of Hermione to look around, "Where's—"_

_Hermione's heart broke for Ginny. She did not know how to explain that they weren't rescued._

_"Why are you alone? And you're so—**pregnant**? What's going—" She looked around and squeezed her eyes shut, finally realising their plight._

_"There's no one else, is there?" she asked. Hermione shook her head. "You didn't escape that night; did you?" She shook her head again. Ginny stumbled to the closest wall, leaning heavily against it for support. "Curse all the gods! We're still prisoners, aren't we?" she asked, but she wasn't looking at Hermione. Ginny slid down the wall, put her head between her knees and began to sob inconsolably. _

_Hermione rushed to kneel beside her friend and pulled her into her arms. She held Ginny as she cried her heart out. Hermione did not know what to say. She thought she was prepared for the worst. She thought she would know just how to console Ginny when they met, but despite everything she had been told, she was not prepared to see Ginny Weasley, one of the most strongwilled witches she had ever known, so broken._

_Having no words of consolation, Hermione held her friend close and rocked her gently until she had cried herself to sleep. _

Hermione followed the sound of her friend retching to find her bent over a bucket conveniently placed at her bedside. Watching Ginny dry heave, she knew from experience that her stomach had to be cramping. Settling herself on Ginny's bed, Hermione reached out for her. The other woman pushed away the bucket, took a deep breath and accepted her friend's silent offer to hold her. As Hermione wrapped her arms around Ginny, she closed her eyes and sighed in her arms.

"You a'right, Ginny?" Hermione's voice was hoarse.

Ginny grunted in response. "You?"

"Fantastic," said Hermione, curling her body around Ginny's and wiping a fleck of spittle or bile from the corner of her mouth. "I just hate the constant puking," she said. "Worst part of being pregnant."

"There is no worst part," said Ginny. "The whole thing's the worst."

Hermione clenched her jaw and mentally cursed her thoughtlessness, again. Nearly a month of sharing quarters and she still kept footing her put in it. When commiserating with Ginny about her pregnancy woes she often forgot, while Ginny's pregnancy had also been forced upon her by a Malfoy that is where all similarity between their circumstances ended.

Hermione blamed Voldemort for her own forced pregnancy—what happened to her was rape, but she did not think of Draco as her rapist. Furthermore, as upset as she was to have her choices stolen from her, in the days before Ginny's arrival, Hermione had come to terms with her pregnancy. She disliked certain aspects of it but bore no resentment towards the babies growing inside her and did not think of them as a product of rape.

How very, _very_ different from Ginny's nightmarish ordeal.

_"They left me down in the dark dungeons," said Ginny, speaking of her experience with the Malfoys, "because Narcissa didn't care to see her husband's whore flaunted about her precious Manor. 'The master's whore' is how she had their elves address me, as if I wasn't being held against my will to be defiled by her husband. If not for her, I'm sure Lucius would have simply ignored me after he got me pregnant. Left forgotten in my cell till it was time for me to deliver his precious 'heir'. If not for Lady Malfoy feeling so offended by my mere presence in some rotten, stinking corner of her mansion, I would never have been shoved into the hell that was Chateau Lestrange." _

_Ginny shuddered, as if reliving some of her worst moments. Hermione attempted to comfort her friend by wrapping an arm around her. Ginny shrugged it off, shaking her head. "Don't," she warned, "just—I need to finish first. I want it out of me. I need to say it."_

_Not knowing what she was meant to say, Hermione bowed her head in silence. _

_Ginny took a deep breath and continued._ _"Chateau Lestrange was—it was **not** good. I was used by different people, in different ways ...in life-altering ways," she said, looking at her right leg. "But, it didn't matter by then, not really, because, I was already broken. Sometime during my time in the Malfoy dungeons, I was reduced from Ginny Weasley—someone who was loved and cherished by her parents and six brothers—to a hole. You see, of all the people who violated me, Lucius Malfoy was the gentlest of them all, but what he did, the way he treated me..." Ginny trailed off, her voice choked with emotion, but from the stubborn tilt of her chin and the way she clenched her jaw, Hermione could tell her friend was unwilling to cry._

_"He was the **worst**," said Ginny, once she was able to continue. "Every night he'd come down to the damp dungeons of his fancy Manor. There was no reason why any corner of such a fancy Manor would be damp, except of course as proof of the cruelty of the Malfoys. They must've known what it does to their prisoners, to sit in one of those dark cells where you can't even tell if it is day or night, surrounded by the scent of rot, with nothing for company but the noise made by drops of water hitting the stone floor. That sound—that awful sound, that reminded me I was alone, that made me question if I was even still living as all I did was lay there, every day, till it was time for Lucius to arrive and use me as the hole I had become. _

_"He had a routine, it was always the same. Even before he entered my dank cell, he'd cast a silencio at me. While the others enjoyed hearing me scream, Lucius had no need for my voice. A **hole** doesn't need a voice. He'd use a binding spell to keep me on my fours, like some animal waiting to be bred, before pouring some kind of potion down my throat. He'd get behind me and vanish my clothes only once he was ready to violate me. He never looked me in the face. I doubt he ever saw me at all. I was nothing to him, just some chore he was given to do. He'd stick his prick inside me and thrust with all the passion one may feel while reciting arithmancy tables. He'd pump into me till he climaxed and dash off soon after ...But not before casting a spell to ensure I remained in the same position for the next hour, arse sticking up in the air, so his seed didn't slip out._

_"He stuck to this routine every night, till the pregnancy was confirmed. In all those times, he never once looked me in the eye or uttered a single word to me. He didn't care that the potions he fed me left me feeling so aroused I'd end up with torn muscles from my attempts to break free of my binding and touch myself ...or how despite the silencio I'd beg him to touch me, to fuck me properly, to give me some kind of relief. I'd cry to the point where my throat would be sore for days... but he never saw any of those things. I was just some cum bucket he had been ordered to fill. While the others took delight in my torment, I never felt more helpless or less like a human than the times Lucius forced me to endure his indifference."_

The sound of the door creaking open drew Hermione's attention back to the present and Draco's presence in the doorway.

The creaking sound, a recent addition, was Draco's idea. He thought Ginny would benefit from a system that served to alert them to anyone entering their quarters. At first Hermione had thought it unnecessary, but after being reunited with Ginny, she came to appreciate Draco's thoughtfulness. The first few nights Ginny refused to sleep at all, insisting on keeping watch lest the Death Eaters catch them off-guard while they slept. When exhaustion finally caught up, she refused to use the bed, preferring to sleep in the corner of the room in a sitting position, facing the door. She was always on edge, and more than once ended up nearly catatonic from the shock of having Hermione absentmindedly approach without warning her first.

_"Is this what it's like for everyone?" Hermione had asked Draco. She wanted desperately to believe that Ginny's case was an anomaly, that this wasn't what happened with all the prisoners._

_"They knew about Potter's relationship with her, so they may have made it a little more public, hoping to goad him into doing something foolish. They were probably nicer to her. She's a Pureblood witch of fertile age after all." _

_Hermione was quick to catch on to what was left unsaid, although it was hard to imagine anything worse._

_"A sea of black cloaks and silver masks—" Hermione repeated Ginny's words to describe what took place at Godric's Hollow "—and every one of them using their own unique brand of torture to ensure they were 'serviced' by the Chosen One's fiancée," she said in a shaky voice. Some of the tension left her body at the feel of Draco's hand drawing soothing circles over her back, an action he wasn't even consciously doing. Maybe it was Stockholm syndrome, but she found herself feeling grateful to have him there. Whatever their future, she could tell she would miss him—this version of him—if he wasn't a part of her life in some way._

Draco stood in the doorway while Ginny stared in a different direction, clenching and unclenching her fists at her sides.

Conscious of Ginny's discomfort with his presence, Draco never fully entered their room. Usually, he announced his arrival and retreated to wait for Hermione in the passageway outside. Today, however, he continued to remain in the doorway. He glanced back and then took a deep breath before he spoke. "I'm sorry, for everything that's happened to you." He did not need to say her name; it was clear which of the two witches he was addressing.

Ever since she shared with Draco details of how Ginny had been treated by members of his family, she could tell he was troubled by their actions, even if he was no longer considered one of them.

"Stop," Ginny said. "You're just like them; don't pretend like you're any better. We get that we're your prisoners, but stop trying to act like you're a friend when _you're just like daddy_."

Draco's mouth pressed into a thin line. He looked at Hermione and jerked his head to the side. "I'll wait for you outside," he said and left.

Ginny's hostility, though justified, was making things uncomfortable between them. Not so much between Draco and her as it was between Ginny and herself. Ginny refused to see that her situation was different, that Draco was nothing like Lucius Malfoy or any of the other Death Eaters who had raped and tortured Ginny. Ginny believed the blond was simply a different type of sadist, one who enjoyed making his victims complicit in their own torture.

Hermione did not blame Ginny for not seeing Draco for himself. He looked so very much like Lucius Malfoy it was hard to look at him and not see his father or think of the cruelty of the Malfoys. She herself had unfairly lashed out at Draco on more than one occasion.

_"As if Godric's Hollow wasn't bad enough, that bastard figured out a way to make it worse!" Hermione told Draco. "Because she's Sacred Twenty-Eight, something the Weasleys have never given two hoots about, Voldemort thought she'd make an excellent broodmare for his Death Eaters. As the Dark Lord's most loyal follower, your father got to be the first to use her to get an heir for himself. He raped her every night till she got pregnant, and only moved her to Chateau Lestrange because your mother didn't want her husband's 'whore'—that is how she'd refer to Ginny—in her house." Hermione's tone was biting as she practically spat the words at Draco._

_He visibly flinched in response. Even then, she was aware she was being unfair to Draco but she was just so angry on Ginny's behalf, she did not care to restrain herself. It spoke volumes about the kind of man he was now that instead of losing his temper or saying something hurtful, both justifiable behaviours, he stoically tolerated the things she said, understanding her need to vent._

"He's just like them, Hermione," said Ginny, watching Hermione get up off the bed to go meet Draco.

Hermione could only nod in response, tired of explaining why that wasn't true without causing Ginny offence in some way. In the past month, she had discovered she could no longer share her thoughts and feelings with her friend, as she had once done. Ginny treated her like an accomplice to the Death Eaters who hurt her anytime she spoke of Draco in a positive light; she accused her of cheating on Ron, even though their brief relationship had fizzled out a while back; and she made her feel guilty about the fact that she was still able bodied and was not violated by several different people like she was. Hermione doubted Ginny meant to do any of those things, but the pregnancy was already exhausting and having to constantly watch herself around Ginny was an added strain.

* * *

Hermione spotted Draco leaning casually against the wall outside the quarters she now shared with Ginny. His entire profile was illuminated by a stray sunbeam in the dark passageway. An apt metaphor, she thought. Draco was beginning to feel like the only light in her darkness, her only tether to sanity these days. Each day they spent more time together, with her feeling closer to him as he was the only one who cared to understand her anymore. He was no longer just a possible means to escape, and the attraction between them was not just about sexual relief, though there was a lot of that as well...

"Fuck, Merlin—you're killing me Hermione."

She enjoyed watching him moan as she took him inside her ever so slowly.

Sensing her need when she left her room, Draco took Hermione to a corner of the castle they could be together unobserved. Behind closed doors, she wasted no time in pushing him down flat on the bed and releasing his cock from the confines of his trousers. There was no hesitation in her movements. In the past few weeks, there had been several opportunities for Hermione to become intimately acquainted with his organ.

"Let me use my fingers instead," he offered once more, his plea falling on deaf ears.

With her pregnancy having advanced to the extent it had, he constantly worried about hurting her or the babies during sex, even though he was desperate to give her the hard fucking she craved. But climbing on top of him and riding his cock wasn't just about the sex; it was about the control it gave her, if only in some brief and limited way, in a world she otherwise had none. No, she preferred it this way. Here, with him, like this, was the only time Hermione felt in charge of her own self anymore.

She could feel the burn in her thighs from holding herself suspended above his cock, but the physical pain was worth the mental satisfaction of knowing she had him at her mercy. Hermione lowered herself on Draco's cock, but stopped before she could sheath him completely. She raised and lowered herself again, just enough to tease the head of his cock. As often as he swore he would toss her on her back and fuck her till, she squealed for mercy, she knew he would not; he would let her have this. She marvelled at the muscles beneath her palms as she braced herself against his chest and continued to shallow fuck him until her legs gave way and she could hold herself up no more.

One look from Hermione was all it took for Draco to understand what she needed from him. He held her by the hips and in a sheer display of strength, balanced her entire weight in his hands as he raised her slightly and proceeded to thrust with abandon from under her. She merely held on, gazing into his eyes, mesmerised by the emotions flashing across his face as he fucked her.

"Just wait till our pups are born, Granger... I'll give you a real fucking then," he swore.

Hermione let out a whimper as he grew harder inside her. He was ready to climax. She was close too, but not quite ready to be done yet. She scratched his chest, making him growl, before she reached for the headboard behind him and clutched it for leverage. She could now ride him _and_ enjoy his thrusts from below.

"Salazar's balls, witch. Take it easy," he scolded, continuing to furiously fuck her without breaking pace, "I'll give you what you need." The way he looked at her, he may have meant more than just an amazing orgasm.

Later, she lay sated on top of him, his fingers absentmindedly tracing a distinct pattern on her skin. When she asked him what it was, he appeared sheepish before admitting it was a rune. Much later that night, alone in her bed, Hermione suddenly remembered an interesting piece of information about the rune Draco had traced on her skin that day. She smiled. That rune was also a marker for his name.


	12. Chapter 12

_What's that infernal racket outside!_

Draco clutched a pillow and dragged it over his head in an attempt to drown out the sound of the bird chirping outside. His wand had yet to sound off his daily wake-up alarm, but already he knew he planned to silence it and go right back to sleep. For some reason, every muscle in his body hurt. He wasn't planning to get up until he felt more like himself again. While trying to find a position that did not hurt as much, the sheet covering him moved. The feel of cool air on his bare buttocks alerted him to his nude state. That couldn't be right. Since his home became overrun with Death Eaters and Black Cloaks, plus the Dark Lord's fondness for trying to catch his followers off-guard, it served him well to always be prepared, which meant sleeping fully dressed. Draco shot up in bed, his nudity making him feel extremely vulnerable.

He rubbed his eyes a few times, the light too bright for the time of day. His heart began to race when he took in his surroundings. This was not his luxurious bedroom in Malfoy Manor. Compared to the rich furnishings he was accustomed to, this room was practically Spartan, even if it was of a decent size. Nearly everything around him—the walls, ceiling, bed, even a chair—appeared to have been carved out of stone. His eyes went to one of the few pieces of wooden furniture, a chest, with some clothing neatly piled on top of it. Eager as he was to cover himself, he could not stand the idea of wearing someone else's clothes.

Draco draped himself in the bed sheet and tried to remember how he came to be wherever he was right now. His head and body hurt in that horrible way it did when he thoughtlessly imbibed far too much firewhiskey and performed some life-threatening stunt, except that could not be right either. Such behaviour, normal in his carefree Hogwarts days, would be highly uncharacteristic of him now. With the threat of death constantly looming over the heads of his family and himself, tempting the fates with such foolish displays seemed unwise.

The more Draco pondered over what might have happened to him, the more his head blanked out. He could feel his entire being reach out to something elusive out there and return empty-handed. This happened a few times until his heart began to ache from the emptiness that filled him.

A knock on the door, followed by the creaking sound of the door being pushed open had him instantly on guard. In walked a stranger, who Draco was sure he had never seen before ...but there was something familiar about him.

"How are you feeling?" asked the old man. His voice possessed a hypnotic quality that put Draco at ease despite his Slytherin instinct to mistrust all.

Draco had enough experience to know he was not under the Imperius curse. Regardless, whatever the old man was doing to him was so similar to the Unforgivable, Draco began to panic and struggled to maintain his aloof facade.

"This can be difficult," said the strange old man, moving towards the chair in the corner of the room. His speech and gait gave him away as nobility even if the style of his robes was common.

The man settled himself into the chair and looked to Draco. "Why don't you have a seat?" he asked, gesturing towards the bed.

Not quite a compulsion, but Draco felt a desire to do as the man said. He continued to feel uneasy with whatever was going on. Where was he; who was this man; and why in Hades was he moving to sit on the bed as the man suggested—were just some of the questions swirling through Draco's head at the time.

"Calm down, pup—"

The firm tone used made Draco want to obey the command.

"—I'll explain it all to you soon. Just try to relax first, your body's still healing. I don't want you getting too excited and hurting yourself once more."

_Once more?_

Draco blinked in confusion. He did not know what the man was referring to but found himself relaxing all the same. Ever since the man entered the room, that overwhelming sense of emptiness inside him had dulled to some extent. Part of him wanted to beg the other man to let him go or at the very least hug his knees for comfort, but another—new and unfamiliar—part of him scoffed at the idea of displaying such weakness.

"We mean you no harm," assured the grey haired man, the look in his clear blue eyes confirming the sincerity of his words.

"Close your eyes—" The smoothly delivered command was hard to ignore, but without knowledge of what was to come, Draco could not honour his request. He sighed and shook his head.

"You're a strong one," the man observed. Staring intently at Draco, he repeated, "Close your eyes."

Draco's eyelids snapped shut, in a way that had to be the work of magic, just some type he was unfamiliar with. Even though he was acting of his own choice, something about the man was making him _want_ to do as he said.

"What's the last thing you remember before you woke up?"

Draco was unable to recall anything, except for a vague sense of pain and chaos. He shook his head.

"Do you remember meeting me two days ago?"

_...two days ago? _

He would have surely remembered such a distinct-looking person, had they crossed paths before. However, while he could not recollect any previous meeting between them, he could not shake off that feeling of familiarity either.

"You were badly injured. No one thought you would live, but you did—though you weren't too happy about it when you woke up two days ago and realised what had happened to you."

Normally, Draco would have turned his nose up at anyone lacking the finesse to avoid speaking bluntly, yet in the moment he could not resist asking, "And what exactly has happened to me?"

"Lycanthropy."

Although the man spoke at length afterwards, the only thing Draco recalled of the conversation was that single word, _lycanthropy_. As he pondered all the ways in which his life was now fucked, Draco finally began to piece together the chain of events that had led him to that point.

_Fuckin' Crabbe and the out of control fiendfyre ... The destruction of the diadem they were meant to protect ... Potter and Weasley escaping because he didn't cast the killing curse ... A distraught Goyle unfairly blaming him for Crabbe's death ... The Dark Lord's wrath over the destruction of his horcrux ... Aunt Bella mocking him for his inability to cast the killing curse ... Death Eaters binding him and bringing him to Bleidd Castle ... Greyback ... The full moon ... Wolves ... _**_Werewolves _**_... Pain, so much pain ... Jeers and laughter from the spectators ... Death. _

_Being bathed by the silver light of the moon ... Rebirth ... A soothing voice addressing him, "You're a werewolf now, Draco Malfoy. As upsetting as you may find the notion now, I want you to know, being a wolf is an honour; the moon goddess must have shined down on you. Welcome to the pack."_

"You've recovered at least some of your memories then?" asked the old man.

Draco had to blink a couple of times before his mind could refocus on the present and the man before him. The grey hair and white streak looked remarkably similar to one of the wolves that bit him.

"You were there that night."

The old man nodded. "I am Oskar, your sire. I was responsible for turning you."

Remembering the number of wolves that attacked him that night, Draco doubted they could know who infected him.

"We share a bond, not quite as strong as one you share with the alpha but it's there."

"The alpha?" he asked, not knowing what Oskar meant.

"Fenrir Greyback, he's the leader of our pack and your alpha."

"Greyback isn't my sire then?" Why was that, it was unlike Greyback to refrain from blood sport.

"No, because of your heritage Greyback and his Dark Lord were worried about the kind of powers you could end up possessing if you were bitten by an alpha. They chose the weakest members of the pack to attack you that night."

Draco nodded in acknowledgment even though he did not truly understand what difference it made which werewolf infected you.

"There isn't time for details now, just the basics before Greyback arrives. We have a hierarchy and everyone has a role to play. Each pack is run by an alpha, the strongest member of the pack, with betas handling supervisory or administrative roles, and finally omegas who form the common citizenry within the pack.

"The alpha bonds with each member before they can be a part of a pack. You accepted Fenrir as your alpha when you woke up two nights ago, which is why you're more coherent this time. For whatever reason, Fenrir is resentful of you and may still challenge you to a match. So, as your sire I feel obliged to offer you some advice. If you value your life, submit to the alpha and, however tempting the prospect, never let him see the full extent of your strength."

* * *

Without warning, she turned to the side of the bed and emptied the contents of her stomach.

"Ugh, can't believe it's happening again," grunted Hermione as another bout of sickness came on.

Hermione took off her shift and used the garment to wipe the corners of her mouth before tossing it aside and putting on a clean garment. When she turned, Ginny was staring at her stomach.

"Cora says it won't be long now." Hermione smiled, giving her belly an affectionate rub.

"You know this'll keep happening, right?"—Ginny eyed the swell of her own stomach—"I want it out of me, but what would even be the point? Soon as we give birth, we'll be given to someone else. It's never going to get better—"

She clenched her teeth, the features of her face twisting into something ugly as she ground out her words. "None of this was supposed to happen. You know I'm not ambitious like you, Hermione, no grand plans to change the world. I was going to get married, have children with Harry... Maybe if we survived the war, I would've liked to try out for some professional quidditch team. That's about it." She shook her head and hugged her knees to her chest. "And look at me now—nothing but a hole. They won't stop once this baby is out. They'll just do it all over again, and again, for as long as they can." Ginny buried her face in her hands and burst into tears.

"Shhh." Hermione brushed the hair out of Ginny's face. "We'll get out of here. I'm sure I'll figure something out," she said, trying to sound more convincing than she actually felt.

"Considering they took our wands, I don't see how."

"Come on, Ginny. We're in this together now. We'll escape or die trying together, yeah?"

Ginny let out a soft sob and crawled over to where Hermione sat with her arms open, waiting for her.

Hermione hugged Ginny, tucking her head under her chin. Had she made a mistake by not acting on Cora's advice? Two days ago, Cora expressed her concern for Ginny's mental health, suggesting the younger witch would be better off in her own quarters, separate from Hermione. According to Cora, watching the rapid progression of Hermione's pregnancy was the cause of the multiple anxiety attacks Ginny had suffered in recently.

"I wish they'd just die, Hermione," whispered Ginny, her head pressed close enough to Hermione's stomach to feel the twins moving inside. "It's the only way we can have a future with the men we love."

Hermione disagreed. Harry loved Ginny. So much, he would be grateful is she just returned alive. As for her, though Ginny had meant Ron, he wasn't the one Hermione was thinking about when thinking about the man she loved. Hermione remained silent, quietly sighing and continuing to brush Ginny's hair with one hand.

...

While Hermione sat with one arm protectively wrapped around her belly after listening to Ginny's wish for her babies to die, Draco stood outside, listening to their conversation from the other side of the wall thanks to his lupine hearing. Hermione had no way of knowing that Draco had heard her silence and left, believing she shared her friend's views.

* * *

Pain. Burning, searing pain running through his whole body was the only thing he was aware of as his mind slowly drifted to consciousness. Draco lay on his stomach, left eye busted and swollen, lip split, and the ground beneath his right cheek. It was too much of an effort to even breathe. He tried to remember what had happened, how he had ended up like this, but his brain could focus on nothing but the pain.

Draco slowly blinked his eyes open, trying to make sense of his surroundings, but his vision remained a blur. He tried to push himself up, but his hand remained limply on the ground. He attempted to roll over and instantly regretted it, the movement making him conscious of the hurt in other parts of his body. He would have screamed from the pain, except his throat was so raw all that left his lips was a whimper.

Growing frustrated with his inability to do anything, he made one last stubborn attempt to stand. Teeth clenched, he drew his knees forward and arms closer to pull his body into a crouch, which only caused the skin on his back to stretch painfully and sting like it was on fire.

Is that where he was, still trapped in the Room of Hidden Things with the fiendfyre? ... No, no that could not be. He remembered escaping it. Yes, he did escape it, but the diadem ... The diadem—it was important, somehow relevant to why he was where he was now.

He tried to recollect what happened, but there was only chaos.

_Alone._

He was lost and alone in a way that felt a thousand times worse than sixth year.

_Failure._

He had failed again ...but with what? He had fixed the vanishing cabinet, so how did he fail?

There was growling somewhere in the distance, but he did not care. He was focused only on the laughter. They were laughing at him, at his pain—was it happening now or was it only a memory, he could not tell. Why was no one helping him?

_Die, die, die._

They had chanted it, he remembered, or maybe he had... Had he chanted it? He could not be sure. Did he want to die? Did he do this to himself? It was hard to hold on to any one thought through the pain—pain in his body from the injuries, pain in his head from unanswered questions, pain in his heart from the crushing despair of loneliness. The pain enveloped him slowly, moving like liquid fire, until at last he could take no more and lost consciousness. His last thought before he passed out: _Did I just growl?_

...

Draco sat up in bed, panting and covered in sweat. It was a dream, he reminded himself. It was only a dream. He was not alone anymore. He had a pack. He rubbed at his chest to ease the pangs he felt anytime he recalled those agonising moments between being turned and accepting the bonds.

Why did he dream about that moment now? He had not suffered that nightmare since those early months of adjusting to pack life.

Without bothering to dress himself, he walked to his window and used his wand to pour himself a glass of water. He stared out the window, at the moon and sighed, marvelling at its beauty. Moments like these, one could almost believe there may be some truth to the legends Oskar told him about their kind. Did Luna truly favour them?

_"Being a wolf is an honour; the moon goddess must have shined down on you."_

Thinking about those lines, uttered in all earnestness by Oskar when he first gained consciousness, still send a shiver up Draco's spine. He remembered lying broken on the grounds of Bleidd Castle after the werewolves were done ripping into him at Fenrir's command. Yet, through the agonising pain, he had felt the moonlight caress him, filling him with a sense of peace.

Draco looked towards Hermione's window in the distance and sighed, this time from despondence. He may not have Hermione as he believed he had before accidentally overhearing her conversation with Ginny Weasley, but his pups still grew within her and would be born any day now. He wore a stoic grin, reminding himself that with a pack and his pups, he would never be alone again.

* * *

Once more Hermione awoke with her body engulfed in pain.

"Hermione?"

She tried to lift her head to see who it was, but everything hurt too much to move. She knew what was happening, of course, and wished someone would go get Draco. Something was up with the blond recently. The little she had seen of him the last few days, he appeared more withdrawn than was normal between them now. Even though he spoke as much as he usually did, Hermione sensed a change in him she did not like one bit.

With great difficulty, Hermione opened her eyes and looked sideways to see a curtain of flowing red hair.

Ginny hovered over her, looking concerned."Hermione, are you okay?"

"Gin," she said, trying to reassure her friend with a smile. Suddenly, the pain in her belly flared, making her feel hot and cold at the same time.

Hermione curled in on herself, grunting, "Draco," when the pain dulled a little.

"Is, something's wrong with—Oh!"

Hermione let out a soft sob when she felt movement besides her. Ginny had climbed into bed beside her and was stroking her back.

Hermione shook her head. She needed Draco, and Cora, but instead of calling for help, Ginny held her while she made shushing noises and cried. Hermione regretted ignoring Cora's advice. She could not handle Ginny breaking apart right now, not when she desperately needed her to go and fetch help. But Ginny clung to her, seeking more than she offered comfort and didn't look like she was going to move. Hermione realised she would have to get help herself or risk losing her babies.

Hermione forced herself to her feet, supporting her belly with her hands and ignoring the trembling form in her bed. Ginny, lost in whatever nightmare, was completely oblivious to everything around her. Leaning heavily against the wall for support, Hermione slowly made her way out of the room, hoping to find someone who would call Draco and Cora for her.

She struggled to breathe as she experienced another contraction. "Behave, for your mama," Hermione whispered to her pups, as she too had taken to referring to the babies inside her. She touched her belly in the way she remembered Draco, or even Oskar, doing when she experienced spasms from their growth spurts. She hoped they would listen to her too. "Please try to stay put till I get your father," she pleaded.

The contractions came to a sudden stop.

Hermione's eyes started to well up. For the first time it dawned on her, she was not just some incubator to them. She was their mother, and they were _her_ babies. However they came to be, and however inconvenient the timing of it all, they were inextricably linked together for life.

She stumbled out of her quarters and spotted Draco sleeping on a pallet outside as if he had been keeping guard there. He woke up with a start when she called out to him and if she weren't in so much pain, she would have giggled at how Draco's hair looked right now. His hair, usually so well behaved, looked like it had been in a battle with a kneazle recently, and lost.

"What is it? Is it time?" he asked, sounding mildly panicked.

She grunted out a, "Yes," then doubled over from the pain of the contraction.

"Okay, okay. Deep breaths, Granger," he reminded while helping her walk back inside.

With Draco supporting most of her weight, Hermione was able to make it to her bed just when the next contraction hit her. Her body twisted awkwardly as she tried to support her belly to ease the pain and her waters broke.

"Salazar's salty nutsack!" cursed Draco. "Ah ... you wait here while I go get Cora," he said, backing out of the room. "Um—don't go anywhere."

He instantly shrunk back at the murderous glare she shot him. "Okay, yes—stupid statement—I'll be right back," he mumbled before dashing out.

...

Hermione focused on her breathing to stay calm while she waited for Draco to return. Soon enough, he was back with Cora following closely behind.

Draco held Hermione's hand and stroked her belly, while trying not to wince anytime she felt a particularly painful contraction and squeezed his hand a little too hard.

"Why don't you massage her stomach, it should help a little?" Cora suggested to Draco. She went about casting spells to prepare the area for the birth and set out a host of healing potions she might need during the process. With everything about this pregnancy being so unique, unsure of what to expect, Cora was choosing to err on the side of caution.

The mediwitch parted Hermione's legs and encouraged Draco to keep up with his massage as it was helping distract the witch.

When it was time, with encouragement from Draco and Cora, Hermione grit her teeth and, pushed. It felt like she was being ripped into two as she pushed out the first of her pups. It wasn't long before two healthy babies lay nestled against her

Draco nuzzled against Hermione's cheek as he looked in awe at their pups."Thank you," was all he could say, before getting choked up.

Feeling just as overwhelmed as Draco and also exhausted by the deliveries, Hermione could only manage a weak smile in response.


	13. Chapter 13

Hermione lay exhausted on the bed after the birth of her twins. She could barely keep her eyes open as Cora instructed one of the omega females to wash and clean the new mother. By now, Hermione had spent enough time observing the werewolves at Bleidd she was certain she could tell who fell where in the pack hierarchy. The omegas were easier to spot by their generally submissive behaviour; they lacked confidence, walked around with their eyes cast down and addressed the betas with titles of respect.

When the omega rubbed Hermione's tender flesh a little too harshly causing her to yelp in pain, Draco let out a low growl of warning which left the omega quaking in fear but did funny things to Hermione's insides. It wasn't the first time she noticed that, unlike the other men and women at Bleidd, she did not respond to any show of aggression on Draco's part with fear. Though she wasn't the kind of person who revelled in needless violence, quite strangely she often felt the distinct urge to bite Draco during such moments. Even in her current state of exhaustion, far from being afraid or even annoyed with his behaviour, she only felt desire. It did not help that he was currently looming over everyone in the room like Hades himself, while expertly holding the twins, one in each hand, carefully against his chest as if they were the most precious thing on Earth.

As the omega went about completing her task, more carefully this time, Cora approached Hermione, health-replenishing potion in hand, which she held to Hermione's lips in a signal for her to drink. No sooner had she swallowed the potion, Hermione began to nod off for some much needed rest.

* * *

Hermione had only just drifted off when she was woken up the sound of a baby crying. Her eyelids fluttered open to see Draco struggling to pacify the little monster in his arms. The baby continued with its energetic bawling until it was red in the face.

"They're hungry, we need to try and feed them," said Cora, drawing Hermione's attention to the child peacefully nestled in her arms.

"She's completely wiped out. Let her rest a while," replied Draco, so focused on trying to calm the baby in his arms he had not noticed she was already awake.

"Nursing within the first hour of birth is good for the mother too," explained Cora as she went about swapping the babe in her arms for the howling infant in Draco's. "This one's got quite the pair of lungs on him," she said, seeking to calm the child in her arms by rocking him. "Besides, Hermione's already awake."

Draco immediately turned towards Hermione, a look of deep concern in his eyes.

"Hey, how are you?" he asked cautiously. There was something strange about his tone, distant somehow. She feebly nodded in response, lacking the energy to muster up a response or even object to Cora's manhandling as she went about moving Hermione's shift to expose her breast to the crying baby at her side.

Hermione could feel Draco staring at them intensely but there was something different about this look from the heated ones he usually gave her. He was scrutinising her. His entire body exuded tension, as if he expected to have to leap to action at any moment. But his attention wasn't focused on any potential threat, as suggested by his posture, just her. She could feel the same distance between them, she had sensed in the past few days, but she was too tired to start any kind of discussion about it right now.

The baby lying beside her did not stop wailing until Cora directed its mouth to Hermione's nipple. It shocked Hermione to see how quickly the baby grew quiet once it latched on just as she was surprised by the sensation of her milk letting down when her child greedily suckled at her breast. Having watched Tonks and Fleur nursing their children on a couple of occasions, Hermione thought she knew what to expect from this part of motherhood. It had seemed simple enough. She winced in pain, not prepared for how much it hurt to have a baby suck on her nipple. As her son fed from her, tears began to sting her eyes but she choked them back. She wasn't sure which of the two things were making her emotional, the pain from nursing or the unreal feeling that she was now a mother of not one but two sons.

"Why don't you try a different position?" asked Cora, most likely having seen her grimace more than once, "Nursing a child shouldn't be painful."

Hermione did as Cora suggested. With great effort, she sat up and took the baby in her arms to nurse it from the new position. It was better than the previous one and she was just beginning to get used to the sensation of a child suckling at her teat when Cora pushed her other son against her other breast. As Hermione limply sat there, tits out and a child attached to each nipple, instead of the deep satisfaction she expected to feel while feeding her sons, she felt like some cow getting milked. Physically and mentally drained by this point, she was disconnected from everything around her. The eager sucking motion the twins made with their mouths signalled they weren't quite done yet, but there was no milk left. Her nipples were cracked, her breasts sore and her sons upset, both now crying over the lack of milk.

Her vision grew blurry. She had tears running down her cheeks. When did she start crying? Why was she this upset by the discomfort caused by nursing when she had endured both physical and mental torture in the past?

Her sons cried as they were taken from her without passably satisfying their hunger—why did that make her feel inadequate, like a failure?

She did not care. She was not supposed to care about them. It would make no sense for her to begin to care about any of these things when she planned to leave them behind and escape with Ginny. There was a **war **going on, and she was a witch—a soldier—not a cow. She had bigger things to worry about than crying hungry infants.

She could feel Cora's judgemental gaze. Even Draco looked at her as if he found her lacking somehow. She could not care less about what any of them thought of her. Soon as Cora moved the babies away from her, Hermione pulled the covers over herself and rolled to her side so her back was to Draco and Cora. She closed her eyes and willed her thoughts away from this place and the unrealistic expectations these people had from her. Before she lost consciousness to sleep, one question lay heavy on her mind.

_Who is Hermione Granger?_

* * *

Hermione's eyelids felt heavy as she drifted to consciousness. A baby was crying somewhere but she lacked the energy to even blink, let alone look around to see where the sound was coming from. Her nipples felt sore. Her sons must have finished another round of feeding.

Through half opened eyes, she watched the back of a woman walking away from her bed. The unknown woman moved out of her line of vision so Hermione could see Draco, sitting slumped in a chair with one of their sons peacefully asleep on his chest. He was watching their other son in the arms of the woman, who now stood far too close to Draco for Hermione's liking. She felt a pang of envy as the other woman expertly rocked her son to sleep.

* * *

Now Draco and a different woman were huddled over a bassinet. She could hear her sons but could not see them. Her head felt heavy, as if she had spent the last hundred years asleep, yet her body felt like she had rested for all of five minutes. She closed her eyes.

When she reopened her eyes, Draco had his back to her. He was leaving the room, bassinet in hand. She wanted to chase after him and demand he tell her where they were going and why he was taking her sons away. Tears rolled down her face as she lacked the strength to even call out after them.

There was no one now. They had all left. She did not even have Ginny by her side. She was _alone_.

* * *

Hermione woke up feeling a lot better physically but everything else felt off. She was alone on her bed, her pups were gone and so was Draco. She grew further alarmed when a quick glance around revealed she wasn't on her bed or even her room anymore. This was a strange new place, but where? And where were Draco and her babies? She began to worry something untoward had taken place, then remembered seeing Draco take their babies and leave. Her heart hurt from the grief the memory produced.

Hermione tried to sit up, to go look for them, but some kind of magical binding prevented her from moving. The agony of her heartache made her scream, but no sound came out of her mouth. She felt an invisible power force her legs apart and wedge itself between them. However hard she struggled, Hermione could not move enough to shove the thing away or even see what it was.

Soundlessly, she screamed, calling out to Draco, in vain. The helplessness plaguing her since the birth of her twins frustrated her. She grew angry, and as her rage built something within her let loose.

Suddenly, Hermione's magic, which had lain dormant within her the past several months, swelled and built inside her till it flowed free within her veins like molten lava burning her up from the inside. The next time she opened her mouth, instead of a scream, her magic burst out of her. Uncontrolled and unstoppable, it blasted everything around her.

Hermione sat up with a start, panting. She was surrounded by firm flesh and the comforting scent of Draco.

"Shh," he cooed into her hair, "it was just a dream. I'm right here."

She looked up at his face. He was here! Relieved, she flung her arms around his neck. Hermione clung to Draco, comforted by the sound of his heart beating as she pressed her cheek against his chest. So great was her relief at finding him there, she did not think to ask him how he knew about her dream.

...

Draco wasn't sure what was happening but he sensed Hermione's distress when she should have been asleep thanks to the health-replenishing potions Cora insisted he feed her every two hours. During the shorter than normal course of her pregnancy, her body had been forced to endure far more pain than natural. Now that the twins were born, Cora had explained, Hermione would need healing and strengthening potions to ensure a full recovery. He was already on his way back to Hermione's room after his meeting with Fenrir when he sensed her reaching for him. He could not explain how, but he was able to sense her loneliness and despair at not finding him there. Draco ran all the way to her so he arrived just moments before she awoke from her dream. Ever since Hermione went into labour, he had so little sleep he could not be sure if he had imagined it, but for the briefest of moments before she woke up, Hermione's entire body was wrapped in an ethereal glow.

However, Draco was preoccupied with more pressing matters to dwell on such things. Pleasant as it was to have Hermione cling to him, once she had calmed down Draco fed her the last dose of the healing potion. Over the course of the week, he had religiously followed Cora's instructions, giving Hermione her potions at the proper intervals and making sure their sons nursed without interrupting her rest. He kept close watch over Hermione and their pups, never leaving their side, until now, when he was summoned by Fenrir

Fenrir was away at the time the pups were born but news of their birth had reached him in whichever part of the world he was wreaking havoc on behalf of the Dark Lord. Within two days of receiving the news, Fenrir had triumphantly returned to check on the latest additions to his pack. Draco gathered from their meeting that instead of rushing home, the alpha had made a detour by the Parkinson Estate, where the Dark Lord was currently in residence. It was a matter of great pride to Fenrir that of all the fertility trials and multiple attempts at crossbreeding, the only successful outcome had come from his pack. Not only had a werewolf mated with a witch in wolf form and got her pregnant, the witch had given birth to not one but two pups and done so in only six months! Hoping to earn the Dark Lord's favour, Fenrir had gone to deliver news of their success in person. The giddy excitement shown by Fenrir left Draco feeling uneasy. This could not bode well for Hermione or their sons.

In the days before the birth of their sons, Draco made an effort to keep his distance from Hermione. After listening to her conversation with Ginny Weasley, he realised he had made a mistake in thinking they could ever have a future together. Hermione was determined to escape and while he did not think her capable of hurting any innocent, let alone her own sons, the same could not be said of her friend. Ginny Weasley seemed broken, not even a shadow of her former self. As a precaution, he decided to have his pups live with the pack, away from Hermione and Ginny, lest they end up a casualty of any escape attempted by the two witches.

Now, though Draco sensed that the witch did have feelings for him, after his meeting with Fenrir, he was certain his pups would be safer with the pack. Considering how important children were to his kind, he was confident the pack would do anything to protect his pups—even defy their alpha, should the need arise. Hermione too would stand a better chance at defending herself if she only had to lookout for herself.

Soon as Hermione recovered, he planned to train her so she was never defenceless or vulnerable again. This meant getting her a wand, so she stood a real chance to make it out of Bleidd alive.

* * *

Hermione watched Cora checking on the babies while Zoey went about tidying the room. Ginny was nowhere to be seen so they must have moved her elsewhere. She made a mental note to check on Ginny's whereabouts later.

Draco hovered over the babies protectively. The tension in his body remained even after Zoey left the room. It occurred to Hermione she had been so out of it during their interactions, she could not describe her own sons.

"Can I see them now?" she asked no one in particular, looking at the bassinet shielding her babies from her view.

Draco gave Cora a look, to which she nodded and quietly left the room. He drew the bassinet close to the bed and reached into it for the quieter one of their two sons.

While his brother was an angry shade of red from having just bawled his eyes out before Draco finally managed to get him to be quiet, this one was pink-faced and Hermione thought he looked like an adorable piglet wrapped up in blankets in his father's arms. She sat up and reached for her son. "Oh, you look like a Wilbur to me," she cooed taking the little bundle into her arms.

"Wilbur?" asked Draco in confusion.

"Yes. I think the name suits him perfectly. Doesn't he remind you of Wilbur in Charlotte's Web?" she asked.

"Charlotte's Web?"

"Ah, yes, well, you probably never heard of it. It's a Muggle children's book about a wise and gentle spider, Charlotte, who decides to save Wilbur, a pig, from ending up as breakfast meat—I loved watching the animated movie as a child, and this little cutie looks just like Wilbur," she insisted, gently stroking one of his chubby cheeks with her index finger.

"Granger, if I've understood you correctly, did you just name our son after a pig?" He picked up their other son and approached Hermione.

"Not just any pig. He's _some_ pig."

"I can tell from your expression that's supposed to mean something, it's still a bunch of nonsense to me. Now what made you think you could name our pups?" he asked, settling himself on the bed beside her. He felt a warm glow in his chest when she immediately leaned against him. They sat side by side, their sons nestled in their arms.

She chewed on her lip. "I'm sorry. Did you already have a name in mind?"

Draco opened his mouth to respond and shut it almost instantly when he realised he had none. Yes, he had eagerly looked forward to the birth of his children but had given little thought to more practical things like, names.

"Not really, but surely we're both clever enough to come up with something better than _Wilbur_. What does it even mean?"

"Resolute, brilliant."

Draco did not want to admit it immediately, but he liked the sound of that. And to be fair, with no hair and a chubby body that was pink all over, his son did currently look more piglet than human. He studied his other son. This one, unlike his brother, was more prone to crying fits and was consequently still sporting the same angry shade of red he did half an hour earlier.

"Well in that case, this one's going to be Mars... or _Martinus_?"

"Ah, I see what you mean ... How about Martin instead?"

"_Martin_? Do our children really need to have such common names?"

"Well, not everyone's conceited enough to name their child something as pretentious as Draco."

"That's rich, coming from someone with a name like Hermione."

He had her there. Her parents did deliberately choose a name others had difficulty pronouncing to show off how clever they were.

"I know this'll sound silly, but I can't help hoping that maybe if our sons had regular names they may end up having some kind of regular life."

Draco tried to ignore the fuzzy feeling he got in his chest hearing Hermione refer to the pups as _theirs_.

"I would really like our sons to have a regular life," he said after considering what she was proposing. "Though, one only needs to look at Potter to see that having a regular name is no guarantee for a regular sort of life."

Draco put his arm around her shoulder, at the feel of her burrowing into his side, the tension finally left his body. Maybe it was just exhaustion making her behave this way, but it felt so good to go back to how things were between them until a fortnight ago.

"Well, we'll just have to stay alive and watch over them so Wilbur and Martin don't suffer Harry's fate."

Draco stared ahead of him and smiled. "Wilbur and Martin... Not sure which is more surreal, that I'm a father now and responsible for these two lives, or that our sons have names like _Wilbur_ and _Martin_."

"It has to be the former. Can't believe we made two human beings," she whispered in awe. Draco simply nodded, equally affected by the realisation.

* * *

AN 1: In case it wasn't clear, Hermione suffers from postpartum depression for a few days but gets better thanks to the healing potions.

AN 2: Wilbur and Martin are the names of real life twins of reader 'ofthemoon' (read the comments for chp 12 on AO3 if you wish to know how this came about). If you don't like the names or they ruin the fic for you in some way please find another fic to read. I understand readers have certain expectations when it comes to baby names in Dramione/HP fics- that's okay, just don't leave any comments telling me about it.


	14. Chapter 14

Fatherhood was different than Draco imagined. For one, it was a lot harder. During the first week after Wilbur and Martin were born, with Hermione mostly asleep from the revitalising potions she was given, it fell to Draco, with occasional help from the pack's females, to take care of the pups. There were moments during that first week where the pups would be fed, clean and peacefully asleep beside their mother, and Draco would look at his new family, eyes moist, thinking he had to be the luckiest man alive. At other moments, Draco would want to cry from sheer frustration when despite all his attempts to get them to settle down his sons would assault his sensitive ears with their angry squalls until they wore themselves out.

Then there was the constant worry. He had not anticipated this aspect of becoming a parent. When his pups weren't around, he worried about their safety. Quite often, just as he would start to nod off, he would wake up in a state of panic, worried that something had happened to his pups. When they weren't around, he worried they may want for something and when they were with him, he worried about failing them. Since becoming a werewolf, Draco found himself to be the most self-assured he had ever been, but fatherhood caused him to revert to the vulnerable teen he was in Hogwarts—one who frequently thought that somewhere he had fallen short of expectations. Back then, as a Pureblood and the Malfoy heir, his father had expected him to prove his superiority over the Halfbloods and Mudbloods. But, no matter how hard he applied himself, Potter still bested him in quidditch and Hermione in academics. After six days of next to no sleep and constant feelings of inadequacy, Draco had a little meltdown as he sat in one spot crying, worried he would fail his sons as he had his father.

Smiling down at their son feeding from her breast, Hermione did not notice him enter. Draco stood transfixed by what a mother's love truly was. While he himself was handling parenthood by fluctuating between moments of joy, laughter, panic and secretly shed tears, Hermione had taken to it brilliantly, as she did all things apparently. She was ever calm and patient and, by the gods, she was so beautiful, he thought, watching her cuddle both their sons in her arms and attempting to sing a lullaby even if she could not hold a tune. The idea of her someday leaving him, leaving them, broke his heart a little, but it was a reality he needed to embrace.

Seeing Hermione and the pups together, Draco understood the significance of family. Members of his pack were a great help, of course. There was always someone available to watch the twins—he suspected some even traded favours for an opportunity to mind Wilbur and Martin. Children were a type of novelty for the werewolves. None of them having sired any since they were turned and very few having children from before, there were barely any with experience in child rearing. However, what they lacked in experience they made up for with sheer enthusiasm, confirming his belief that the pack would look after his pups.

Draco's thoughts often drifted to his former family since becoming a father. By now, news of the birth of his sons would have reached his family, so Draco was surprised, as well as a little disappointed, that his mother had not paid him a visit or even sent an owl so far. Already proud of Wilbur and Martin, Draco was eager to show them off to his mother, especially since she often spoke of how much she looked forward to becoming a grandmother some day. He did not have the same expectations of Lucius. With all his prejudices, no matter how miraculous their birth, for Lucius the twins would be no more than half-breeds.

Draco stretched out on the bed so his sons lay between Hermione and him. He looked at his sons—Wilbur, still completely bundled up while Martin had managed to free one hand so it stuck out of the swaddling cloth—and smiled at the picture they made side by side. He stroked Wilbur's round chin and Martin chubby hand, and sighed with contentment. He could not imagine either of his sons ever doing anything so grave that would make him abandon them the way Lucius had abandoned him. As exhausting as caring for the twins could be, he would willingly die before he let anyone harm them.

As was often the case, these stray thoughts of Lucius led to comparisons with the other man who had sired him. How different would life have been if his sire was someone as cruel as Fenrir or uncaring as Lucius? However burdensome the alpha's commands, Draco did not feel them half as strongly as those unfortunate enough to have Greyback as their alpha and sire. How lucky then for him that his sire was Oskar, one of the oldest members of the pack, an Elder and a former alpha. Draco had learnt much about werewolves and their ways because of Oskar, who watched over him like a father and helped him transition into the man he was today.

In many ways, Oskar was not too different from Lucius Malfoy. Both were regal men whose actions were governed by a set of principles they valued and they demanded excellence from those they called family; neither gave him any quarter. Their differences shone through in how they tackled Draco's successes and failures. Where Lucius had rewarded him with nods of approval, Oskar did not shy away from physical expressions like hugs and thumps to the back to show his pride in Draco's accomplishments. When Draco failed, instead of the disappointment he was used to seeing in Lucius' eyes or the humiliation he received at Lucius' hands, Oskar encouraged him to do better by helping him overcome his weaknesses to achieve success.

Oskar expected him to mate with Hermione as a means to protect her but she could have no real future here, so long as Fenrir ran the pack and the Dark Lord ran the world outside, Hermione would not be safe. Though it hurt him to think about it, in the long term, her best shot was with Potter and the Order. And if Potter was still anything like he was in his school days, he was most likely struggling without his brainy friend at his side.

* * *

"You're his sire, did you sense he'd be the one?" asked Cora, biting the head off the chocolate frog in her hand. She never particular cared for Honeydukes' treats otherwise, but in times of stress there was something deeply satisfying about decapitating the confections. This was not, however, a practice she indulged in front of anyone except her former alpha.

Oskar shook his head. "I sensed his magic was strong, if conflicted somehow, but I never thought he'd be **the one**... As much as I have faith in the legends, I never imagined I'd be alive to see any of these things come to pass."

Cora sighed and pushed away the pile of headless frogs. Seeing them made her feel sick, which was ironic given the kind of experiments she had impassively witnessed the Death Eaters perform on her kind.

"I never believed in any of it," she said, and seeing the way Oskar's brows rose at the statement quickly added, "I mean, I believed it was an interpretation of events that may have transpired, but I never thought the legends were literally true. I know the moon influences us, but I never really believed it was Luna guiding us."

"If I'm hearing you correctly, Cora, it sounds like you're admitting to have never really believed in magic." Oskar's eyes twinkled in amusement.

"I know what it sounds like. Of course, I believe in magic—but for me Lycanthropy was always nothing more than an interesting disease. Now, with the birth of the pups and the fulfilment of the Promise, I find myself looking at it all differently. Do you have any idea what it means to question your existence at my age?"

"You may not be my child, but you never really let go of your bond with me as your alpha," said Oskar, looking at her with kindness. "I know the burden you carry, Cora. I know how you've had to stand by and see strangers harm _weres_ because you believed in the end it would help our people—"

Cora shut her eyes, recalling that wretched feeling of doing nothing. While pack-bonds weren't as strong as the alpha or mate bonds, they were rather hard to ignore from two feet away, which was often the distance she was required to maintain during those torture sessions that passed off as fertility experiments by the Dark Lord and his underlings.

"—I also know how overwhelmed you feel realising there are greater forces at play here."

"What am I supposed to do? I don't know what role I'm meant to play. I've only ever done what I believed to be best, not what the fates may desire of me. I..."

Oskar stood up and slowly made his way to Cora. He may be slightly more nimble in his wolf form, but in his human form, he felt every one of the years he had lived. He placed a reassuring hand on Cora shoulders and felt her lean in. As pack creatures, they were physical beings, gestures like pats and hugs went a long way with their kind. He offered her a hand, signalling for her to stand, and embraced her as he would any upset child. Cora quietly cried against his chest, burdened by the guilt of her own complicity in the crimes committed in the dungeons of Bleidd. It should've been Fenrir comforting her. As her current alpha, their bond was such that even a kind word from Fenrir would soothe her hurt. Unfortunately, Fenrir was terrible as an alpha.

There were times, of course, when it benefited them that Fenrir was such an apathetic leader. Fenrir did not wish for Draco to become a powerful werewolf, so he ordered those he believed to be the weakest members of his pack to attack the Malfoy heir. Fortunately for Draco, Greyback's ignorance of the individual histories of members of his pack meant that an Elder ended up becoming Draco's sire. If not for Fenrir's oversight, Draco would have been turned by someone weak and then who knows if he could have succeeded in impregnating someone as powerful as Hermione. Despite her helpless appearance, the one time Oskar had laid his hands on Hermione, he sensed a great and powerful beast asleep within her. It was safe to say the Muggleborn witch's ancestry was not as strictly limited to Muggles as she believed it to be.

Cora had calmed down by now, so Oskar stepped away from her. She furiously rubbed at her eyes and face to hide evidence of her meltdown. Out of respect for her privacy Oskar looked away and out the window instead, his eyes settling on the fated pair resting under a tree with their sons sprawled on their chests. This serene picture which represented the future of his people soothed his old wolf, knowing he had played a role in making something so incredible possible.

Having noticed the direction of Oskar's gaze, Cora moved closer to look at what had caught his attention.

"Fenrir is a fool, but he isn't _that great_ a fool either—it's hard to see them together and fail to see the bond developing there. He'll soon figure out what's going on between the two of them and put a stop to it."

"He needs to be around long enough for that," replied Oskar and turned away from the idyllic scene. "Besides, he takes no interest in the habits of pack members to pay such attention to them."

"That may be true of others, but not when it comes to Draco. The alpha was already envious of the pup's previous status as the Malfoy heir, which only became worse when Draco ended up being the only creature to show any kind of success with any version of the Fero potion till date... I know Fenrir has secretly participated in some of the tests. I don't have access to any of the specifics but I'm certain we would've heard if he had fathered any children... I saw how he reacted to news of Hermione's pregnancy, which is why I never told him she was carrying twins. Soon as he notices Draco's elevated status in the pack over the birth of the twins he'll do something to either ruin Draco's standing, or raise himself higher."

Oskar raised his eyebrows.

"Yes, I know how ridiculous it sounds to suggest an alpha would envy the status of someone in his pack, but this is Fenrir we're talking about. Apart from brute force, what else does the man possess that qualifies him as an alpha?"

Even as a pup, Oskar would never have questioned why Luna chose to bless so dark a creature as Fenrir Greyback with the powers she did. Oskar himself was sired by an Elder who had taught him everything he knew about their kind, but even before that, he was raised to believe it was not one's place to question who the fates chose to use as their instruments. Despite his faults, or even because of them, without a doubt Fenrir had played a part in the existence of the young family outside.

"Do not dismiss your current alpha so easily," warned Oskar quietly. "He may not be the sharpest knife, but he singlehandedly waged, and won, the Pack Wars—something one does not achieve by _brute force_ alone."

When the wizard known as the Dark Lord commanded Fenrir to build him an army, the alpha went on a murderous rampage biting and turning people willy-nilly. However, lacking any real leadership skills, instead of a pack Fenrir had ended up with a bunch of rogue werewolves. Upon realising his mistake, Fenrir went for the second best way to make a large and powerful pack, by taking over existing werewolf packs. Thus began the Pack Wars of Great Britain, wherein Greyback systematically killed the alphas of all the smaller packs scattered throughout Great Britain until he consolidated them into one large pack that called the grounds of Bleidd Castle its home. Such was their reign that no one in the region even recalled what the place was called before it was renamed as Bleidd, the local name for 'wolf'.

"He is not my alpha," Cora said through gritted teeth. "That monster took my mate from me. He took my alpha from me. I only accepted his alpha bond because I didn't want to end up an outcast."

Sadly, this was true of far too many members of their pack, thought Oskar. The various groups, leftover from the packs destroyed by Greyback, only accepted Fenrir as their alpha and thus bonded with him because the alternative—ending up an outcast—was far worse to contemplate. And yet, while the pack may not have benefitted from his leadership style, older members swore that the insane wolf living inside Fenrir had quietened a great deal due to the stability offered by the new pack.

"You could still end up one, should the alpha hear you speak in this manner. You should be more careful," he patiently told her.

"I am always careful around _others_. It isn't me you ought to worry about right now; Fenrir will notice the respect Draco gets from the pack for having sired two children, and then he will want that for himself. Coveting is Fenrir's way, and with Hermione being the only witch to fall pregnant after mating with a wolf..."

Cora did not need to complete that statement, Oskar shared her fears. However, he was also hopeful that Draco and Hermione would complete their bond before Fenrir became a serious threat.

"I know you're hoping they bond soon, but—" Cora blew out a breath and returned to the desk with the pile of headless frogs sitting abandoned on it. One at a time, she ripped open the handful of unopened packets left, and looked just a little less frustrated with each frog head she tore apart. She did not resume speaking until she had decapitated every one of them.

"She is far too stubborn and focused on the war outside to understand what is happening under her nose ... It doesn't help that her only friend here hates the Malfoys too much to see the difference between Draco and his father, let alone point it out to Hermione."

"It should be different now with the children here."

"I've spent some time with her. She is loyal only to Harry Potter and the cause to defeat the Dark Lord. The pregnancy weakened both her and her magic, but once she's recovered, I don't expect her to stick around long enough to bond with the pup."

"You believe she'll escape?"

"I believe she'll make a foolish attempt at it, which will earn her a punishment from either Fenrir or the Dark Lord himself. There's nothing Draco will be able to do to protect her then. Our only hope is for Gunnolf to become alpha—"

Oskar cut her off. "You know I agree with you that Gunnolf would serve the pack far better as alpha, but Fenrir would never willingly abdicate, and Gunnolf would not stand a chance against him in a fight." Oskar looked out the window again, to the group of Black Cloaks enjoying a stroll on the castle grounds as well as the pack members standing guard on the outer edges. "Defeating Fenrir would hardly be the end of it... The pack is large right now, larger than any pack ought to be, and we do not know where each one's loyalties lie. Lastly, we cannot know how the Dark one and his followers will react to Fenrir's defeat. With threats both from the inside and out, one misstep on our part could result in a slaughter."

Neither of them said the words but they both shared the same thought: _We need allies_.

* * *

Fenrir was suspicious. The thought had half of Draco panicking over the prospect of getting into the alpha's crosshairs, while the other half remained calm in the knowledge he could deal with him if necessary. Fenrir must have some inkling of the bond forming between him and Hermione, thought Draco, not because the alpha commanded him to fuck yet another omega during the full moon—no, that was just Greyback being a petty arsehole, jealous of Draco's current popularity in the pack. Draco thought something was off because suddenly all the tasks he was assigned were ones that kept him busy and away from Hermione all the time. He could see the pups anytime he liked since they lived with the pack but could not spend a tenth of the time with Hermione and the pups, together, as he would have liked.

With the strain of a month passed under Fenrir's watchful presence and the prospect of another full moon with yet another moon mate who wasn't Hermione, Draco felt sick. Fenrir was called away at the last moment during the last full moon, giving him no time to plan moon mates. Draco had taken advantage of the situation by skipping the festivities to spend time with his pups, managing to surprise Hermione with how careful he could be with their sons even in his wolf form.

Things would be _very_ different this full moon with Fenrir around. Draco recalled his conversation with the head beta just a few hours ago.

_"What the hell, Gunnolf!"_

_"I know ... I get it, Draco. I'll try to talk him—"_

_"It makes me sick. I could barely handle being with the omegas before Hermione and the pups. Now, the very thought of knotting with someone else—"_

_"Makes you sick to the stomach, quite literally. Yes, I noticed."_

_"So there's no way it's skipped the alpha's attention, still he torments me with these commands. I need to be with Hermione. How is she supposed to manage the boys by herself for one whole night? You know what a handful they can be, and if we're all out, engaging in the festivities, who'll be there to help her?"_

_"What about that friend of hers? Cora said she's been doing a lot better since getting her own quarters."_

_"Hermione avoids being alone with Ginny when the twins are around."_

_"She still talks about hurting the pups?"_

_Draco shook his head. "Hermione's just playing it safe—thank goodness! I don't need one more thing to worry about right now. Now, what's going on with my schedule... all these silly chores he has me running. Is he deliberately trying to keep me away from the main Castle?"_

_"Looks like it. If you mate with Hermione Granger, she'll be of no use to the rest of the pack."_

_"It's not the pack's interest in Hermione that concerns me."_

_"What do you mean?"_

_"Fenrir's been sniffing around Hermione." _

_"What're you talking about?"_

_"He keeps 'running into her' when she leaves her room. He's been uncharacteristically pleasant, went so far as to say he hoped she liked the room he had her moved to after the delivery."_

_"Ha! Must've looked like a fool trying to take credit for that. We're lucky Cora's really good at lying to Fenrir or he would've had our hides for moving her when we did."_

_"You're missing the point here. I think Fenrir is trying to woo Hermione."_

Even a fool could deduce that it wasn't the Fero potion but Hermione who was special and with Greyback being childless, it was safe to figure out his intentions for her. Draco reminded himself he did not feel threatened that the leader of his pack was interested in his witch. So what if he could not offer her the same protections as Greyback? So what if he had nothing to offer her other than himself? Hermione would not care for those things... The fly in the ointment was that he did not know where he stood with Hermione anymore.

After the birth of their twins, Hermione changed. Without the pregnancy taxing her system, she was sharper and more like someone who held the title of being the brightest witch of her age. Physically, motherhood had been rather kind to Hermione, filling her out so she wasn't quite all skin and bones she was in the months before she gave birth. He could only imagine how good it would feel to grab her hips now, but he refused to act on it. Without the raging hormones of her pregnancy, she was no longer walking around aroused, so, unlike before, he no longer had an excuse to grab her without explicit invitation. He could not assume she wanted to resume physical relations with him just because it was what he wanted. Merlin, she already wanted to escape, he did not need to give her one more reason to do so.

* * *

Hermione leaned back on her hands, enjoying the shade of the tree with the twins in a bassinet beside her. She did not notice Fenrir creep up and stand there, watching her, until he snapped his fingers, making her head jerk up in attention. Such was the magic of the alpha that even though Wilbur and Martin were still infants they sensed their leader and opened their sleep heavy eyelids to stare at Fenrir. Without bothering to ask, Fenrir picked Martin, who appeared more awake than his brother, and held him in his arms.

"Hello, little pup," he cooed. "I missed you."

Hermione watched nervously as Fenrir held her son. Based on his last few surprise visits, Hermione did not consider him a threat to her safety, if anything he made her uneasy with how friendly he had started to act since she gave birth. She was nervous right now because, even though he outwardly doted on them, she suspected Greyback actually resented her sons.

Martin cooed and flailed his arms about as if he meant to grab a hold of Fenrir's face as he rubbed his face in the alpha's neck.

"Aw, li'l pup. I wish I was your da... Maybe someday I could be, huh? Depends on your mother, I'd say," said Fenrir, laughing at Martin's obvious fascination. Being pack, the pups appeared to be aware of their connection to the alpha.

During the course of their recent encounters, Hermione discovered Greyback had an odd sense of humour. However, she could not shake off the feeling that he was quite serious about the things he said as a joke. Hermione looked around, hoping Draco would arrive soon and ease the awkwardness of the situation.

"Expecting the Malfoy pup, are you?" Fenrir's quiet question was barely audible. "Thought you were clever, but you're like every other dumb bitch, aren't you? The Fero potion makes my wolves go in a rut so they'll fuck any wet hole put before them. Malfoy's done with you, moved on, he has," declared Greyback. "And while he's fucking and breeding other bitches, you're sat here like a fool thinking you were special in some way." Greyback gave her a menacing sneer before turned around and walked away, leaving Hermione to wonder if there was any truth to his statement.

* * *

Hermione stood at her window, staring at the lake with longing. The weather was getting warmer and while she wasn't particularly hot, she thought it would be nice to be outside.

She was startled by the sound of someone clearing their throat immediately behind her. She knew who it was from how close he stood behind her. She would only have to lean back a little to be nestled against his chest. Since the birth of the twins she could not tell whether he had lost interest in her physically or if it was something else, but for some reason, no matter how close he was, there was always just that little bit of distance between them. Frankly, she was tired of it.

"Fenrir's out today, so I'm free to do as I please." He must have watched her for a while before he approached because he said, "Oskar's minding the boys. I thought it may be nice for us to go for a swim."

"That does sound nice." Hermione turned around and wrapped her arms around his waist, adding, "I've missed you."

Almost immediately, the tension eased out of his shoulders and his eyes fluttered shut. "Me too," he whispered into her neck, nuzzling her.

"Fenrir said you were going to be busy for a while. He said you'd be too busy fu-fucking other bitches and breeding them." She did not ask for any of this, yet she could not help feeling hurt by the idea of Draco being with anyone else the way he was with her.

Draco sighed. "He's ordered me to impregnate the pack's females. We're given potions to induce heat; I'm expected to knot with whoever I'm paired with." He kissed her shoulder. "My wolf hates it. I want you." He gently tipped her chin upwards and looked into her eyes. "You can feel it, right?"

She nodded.

"I didn't realise it at the time—that first time we were together. I was just acting on instinct when I initiated the mate bond."

She remembered. Part of her had known even then, there would be no going back from this when he claimed her as both beast and man.

"Fenrir must know it though, and he's deliberately keeping me away from you. He knows I can only sire children with you, but he's still making me fuck others to torment me."

"I think Greyback wants me as his mate."

Not surprisingly, Draco's hold on her tightened and his whole body tensed. She expected him to react poorly when he discovered Fenrir's intentions, but he needed to know what was going on.

"The kind of questions he asks and the way he talks about you, I think he's threatened by you. It clearly bothers him that you have children when he doesn't, even though he's an alpha." In a measured tone she told him, "More than once he's mentioned how powerful and fertile I've proven to be, also, how lucky any witch would be to mate with an alpha."

Draco had started to growl while she was talking and the colour of his eyes changed from their usual grey to the amber shade they took on when he transformed. Odd, since Draco had told her only the alpha could transform without a full moon. His nostrils flared and his hands flexed and relaxed their iron grip on her hips. This would not do. She needed him calm and in control of his senses so they could get ahead of the potential problem.

Hermione held his face between her palms and looked him in the eyes. "I don't want him," she said, pulling his face closer to her and angled her head so their lips were nearly touching. "I want you," she said breathily.

His eyes changed back to their usual colour, though more of a stormy grey now. He sniffed at her, curled his fingers around her wrists and pulled her hands away from his face. Eyes narrowed at her, he asked, "Have you been given any potion today?"

He could probably smell her arousal and given their past, suspected she had been drugged.

She shook her head. "He's waiting for the full moon, wouldn't make sense to leave me in heat around so many unmated werewolves." Cora had been the one to help her arrive at that conclusion.

"So, you'd pick me, a new wolf, a beta, over an alpha?"

Instead of answering, she pressed herself against him and gave his lips a teasing swipe with her tongue. He made a sound she found rather satisfying.

"Granger," he whined, stepping away from her. "You smell way too delicious for me to be satisfied with just some snogging. Even without your heat, your scent makes me want to crawl out of my skin and meld myself to you. It makes me want to fuck you senseless and stay knotted with you till your belly is heavy with my children again."

He needed her to understand exactly what it meant to be with him. It wasn't going to be like any sweet romance she might've imagined happening with Weasley.

She gulped, understanding what he meant. But what choice did she really have here? He was her best hope of surviving this place, and if that wasn't a good enough. there was also the fact that she was in love with him.

"Come," he said pulling her along after him, "let's go for a swim now. You can tell me your decision later."

* * *

They waded through the shallow depths of the cool water, splashing about and just frolicking. Draco could not remember the last time he felt so light-hearted. Hermione's normally wild hair hung in limp curls plastered to her skin, the ends covered her breasts, though he'd catch teasing glimpses of the rosy tips of her nipples when she moved. Merlin! He could not get enough of her.

He grabbed her by the waist and ignoring her shrieks of laughter, tossed her over his shoulders and walked out of the water.

"Put me down, you brute," she said, any attempt at sounding stern ruined by the giggle that followed.

He spanked her bottom, continuing to walk on.

"Quiet, witch or I'll toss you into the water."

"You wouldn't dare," she said.

"And why might that be?"

"You'd never risk hurting me."

She said it so casually and without thought, as if he'd never had a part in her personal pain and humiliation. Draco swallowed the lump in his throat, his heart heavy with the weight of her faith in him and the fear that he may not live up to it.


	15. Chapter 15

Hermione ran forward and lunged at Draco, catching him off guard. Draco rolled over on his side and came up growling. He circled Hermione, stalked her aggressively and ran at her, dropping to a slide at the last second to kick out her feet. Hermione fell backwards, landing on the packed dirt with an 'Oof'. Showing no hesitation, Draco jumped on top of Hermione. With her pinned to the ground, he opened his jaws and bared his teeth to her.

A winded Hermione could only lay there panting. Her whole body hurt. This was not what she thought he meant when he suggested giving her a work out. Now, with more than a dozen of these training sessions under her belt and the only marks on her body were from injuries sustained when she wasn't quick enough to block a spell or a blow, Hermione was beginning to agree with Cora's assessment; Draco was acting like a fool.

_"I've heard a great deal about your intelligence, I'd like to see some evidence of it."_

_Hermione could not help but bristle at her words. Cora looked out for Ginny and her, but the mediwitch had a knack for annoying her with the way she phrased things sometimes. Instead of asking her what she meant, Hermione silently waited for Cora to explain herself. A tactic she had picked up from Draco._

_"Any sensible witch would be panicking over the prospect of someone like Fenrir courting her. Either you aren't as clever as people credit you to be, or you don't object to mating with Fenrir." _

_Hermione took this information like a Stupefy to the head. Despite Fenrir's attempts to make them appear natural, it was obvious his recent encounters with her were staged. However, she had attributed his sudden interest in her to have something to do with her being an Order member, not a **personal** interest in her. _

_"It's not just Fenrir," Cora continued, "most males in the pack want to mate with you because they think you've got some kind of magical womb that makes it possible for you to mate with werewolves."_

_"I thought your kind believed only true mates are blessed with children."_

_"Well, lycanthropy may boost our immunity but it does not make us immune to stupidity. Especially since we have an alpha who spouts such nonsense," she said with a sigh and a roll of her eyes. "It doesn't matter what the rest of us believe, what matters is that Fenrir believes that the Dark Lord performed some kind of miracle which makes it possible for you to breed with werewolves. He's also convinced quite a few members of the pack of this, promising each of them a turn with you—once he's done of course."_

_Hermione felt the blood drain from her face as she imagined what this meant for her. _

_"I've bought you some time by playing on Fenrir's insecurities. I suggested he'll lose face before the pack should he fail to get you pregnant, so he should do all he can to have the odds in his favour. He's not going to bother you this full moon as I've started him on a three-month course of fertility and virility potions—'to ensure success and avoid any potential embarrassment' was how I worded it. But bear in mind, patience is not the alpha's strong suit. I cannot predict when he may decide to ignore my advice and proceed with his plan to mate with you."_

_ Motherhood had made her complacent, realised Hermione. She had allowed herself to get caught up in being a real mother to Wilbur and Martin, forgetting her decision to leave them behind and escape. She would have to fast-track her plans to make up for lost time. _

_"What do you think your options are? How do you think you can be in a position that best serves your goals?"_

_Once again, Hermione silently waited for Cora to elaborate._

_"Realise it or not, we all expect you to try and escape, we've been on the lookout for it. You can be certain you're never making it out of here on your own."_

_Hermione began to panic, but did her best to portray a calm facade. Up until then, she thought she had played the role of a compliant prisoner quite convincingly. From the way she was allowed to move around the castle, freely as she pleased, she was under the impression they had stopped monitoring her. If what Cora said were true, then getting away would be that much more difficult. _

_"From all the people here, there's just one person who would be willing to help you escape. But, do you know he could help you in other ways too?" _

_"How?" asked Hermione, her curiosity piqued to the point she could no longer maintain the pretence of indifference._

_"If you are mated with Draco—as in complete the mate bond—none of the _weres_ would be interested in you, Fenrir included."_

_"What would that mean for us?"_

_"Nothing different than what it is already. Whether you see it or not, there already exists a bond between the two of you—and I'm not referring to Martin and Wilbur."_

_"And how do we complete this bond?"_

_"Mark and claim each other during mating ...though it would need to take place during the full moon for the bond to be sealed."_

_"Mark? ...in what way?"_

_"In our wolf form, each of us has a unique bite mark that can help identify us. A wolf will bite their mate to mark them."_

_"And this would be enough to keep the others away?"_

_"It wouldn't hurt if you also fell pregnant from the mating."_

_"So why has Draco never suggested this?"_

_Draco both desired her and cared about her welfare, so why would he hesitate? He could've completed the bond during any one of those times they were together during her pregnancy._

_"Because the pup is a fool. He thinks the only two choices before you are to escape from Bleidd or to bond with him."_

_"But you think I can do both?"_

_Cora shook her head. "Come the full moon these men will try to breed you and when their seed won't take, their wolves will tear you apart. You are human after all. Beyond your reproductive abilities, their wolves will simply see you as prey. I doubt you'll survive mating with any of the other werewolves to even attempt an escape."_

"By Salazar! We're going to have to build your endurance. Barely fifteen minutes in and you're already wiped out," Draco was saying while he lifted his weight off her by moving back to sit on his haunches. "

Hermione blinked in astonishment at the man before her. In what world did he imagine her standing a chance against a bunch of highly motivated werewolves? Without her wand, how fast she moved or how much longer than her opponents she managed to stay on her feet would not matter. Draco was clearly deluded, so it was time to take matters into her hands.

Ever since her milk had come in, her otherwise modest-sized breasts had become a prominent feature on her chest. Hermione raised her upper body so she could lean back on her elbows. She stuck her chest out and flashed him what she hoped was a come-hither smile.

"Come on," he scolded, swiftly getting to his feet and pulling her up, "you should always get back on your feet as quickly as you can. Because you are smaller than your opponent, you have a better chance fighting on your feet than wrestling on the ground."

Hermione looked in wide-eyed disbelief as Draco raised his hands and motioned for her to keep her guard up. Merlin, how could he be this dense and not realise what she was trying to do, given that she had already expressed her desire to be with him. Even if Draco knew about Cora having bought them some time, his strategy of trying to arm her with just some defence training was extremely idiotic.

Seeing Draco prepare to launch at her for yet another painful round of throwing her around, Hermione cried out in frustration, stretching both hands out in front of her.

Draco was blasted back.

"What in Hades!" he cursed, sitting up. "Did you manage to cast wandlessly?"

"Felt more like accidental magic to me," Hermione mumbled quietly. Stunned by what just happened, she stood still, as if petrified, staring at her hands still outstretched before her.

Draco got up off the ground and dusted the seat of his pants. "It wasn't strong. Just caught me off guard," he explained, walking back to her. "Do you think you could do it again?"

"I don't know," she mumbled. She had not had an outburst like this since she began attending Hogwarts.

Until the moment she first held her wand, Hermione had not known that the tingling sensation she sometimes felt in the tips of her fingers was her magic trying to get out. Possessing an even-temper, an acute sense of fairness, and an insatiable thirst for knowledge, Hermione had been the very model of a well-behaved child. However, the few times she did throw a tantrum, they were spectacular. Objects around her would end up smashed to bits and she would have no memory of having done so later. Hermione realised those outbursts were her raw magic being unleashed.

"Well, if you can perform wandless magic, you may have no need for this after all," said Draco, smirk plastered on his face.

Still in a daze, it took Hermione a few seconds to recognise the object he was waving before her face.

"Professor Dumbledore's wand!" she gasped.

...

Draco winced at the pained sound Hermione made. Of course, she remembered the original owner of the wand, even if it briefly slipped his mind.

Sometime after graduating from Hogwarts, Draco's own hawthorn wand was destroyed in a skirmish with the Centaurs. By then the wandmakers had taken a stand against the Dark Lord, as such new wands were hard to come by. Draco, however, had no need for a new one since he still possessed his late headmaster's wand... his one reward for his actions in the Battle of the Astronomy Tower, even if he did fail in his task to kill the great Dumbledore. In the years that followed, tricky though it was, and demanding a level of magic beyond his capabilities, Draco grew accustomed enough to the fifteen-inch wand he came to think of it as his own.

"I'm here with you and you're this caring, _amazing_ guy ... It's so easy to forget that you are also _that guy_," whispered Hermione. She covered her mouth with her hands while her eyes, overflowing with tears, remained glued to the wand. "You're Draco, a man I have children with, but you're also _Draco Malfoy, the boy who started the war_."

Confronted by Hermione's accusation, Draco discovered that the old coward within him was still alive. Unable to look her in the eye, he said nothing, just slipped the wand back into his robes and left.

* * *

When by late evening the next day Draco did not turn up for their daily training session, Hermione asked the omega keeping guard outside to get him for her. To his credit, he did show up, and from the guarded look he wore and the stiff way he held himself, he was expecting to be put through the wringer.

Hermione had spent the previous evening and night thinking over everything that had taken place in the last ten or so years of her life since she first discovered about the magical world, trying to assign some kind of context to everything. She also spent a good amount of time trying to imagine what those ten years would have been like from Draco's perspective. At the end of her musings, she realised there were questions she wanted him to answer, but they did not change how she felt about him today.

Hermione smiled at Draco as she ran her hands up his chest, feeling the hard muscle under his robes. Unlike the other werewolves at Bleidd, Draco still clung to some of his old ways and wore robes, which, though well worn, had the refined quality one would expect of any person with the last name Malfoy.

"You're overdressed," she observed simply. "I'd like to feel your bare skin."

Draco stared at her, befuddled. Clearly, he had not expected things to take this direction. He grabbed her elbows and kept her at arm's length from himself, sniffed at her and instantly pulled back, probably shocked by how aroused she smelled.

"Did someone new deliver your food today?"

She shook her head, knowing why he asked. Zoey alone was tasked with delivering all of Hermione's meals to ensure she wasn't slipped something without her knowledge. It was a little ironic that he should worry about her, given the titbit she had learnt from Fenrir this morning.

_"Our healer says a witch can't get pregnant while she's still nursing, but I say it's nonsense is what it is."_

_Hermione cursed herself for forgetting to shut her door. She wished she could cover herself or turn away from Fenrir's leer but Martin was not done feeding yet. Fenrir strutted over to her bed and sat down beside her, clueless as always of how uncomfortable he made her feel. He picked up Wilbur, who began crying from being rudely woken from his nap._

_"Oi, noisy buggers, aren't they?" observed Fenrir, looking genuinely surprised that something so little could have so hearty a cry. "Haven't heard a li'l one cry like this 'cept for the times I would eat them."_

_Hermione was horror-struck by this reminder of his true nature from Fenrir himself, yet from the casual manner in which it was said and his subsequent attempts to calm Wilbur by rocking him, Greyback seemed oblivious to the impact his statement made._

_"You're a good mother, you know. I've heard a lot about how clever you are and you've given us no bother so far, which means you're smart enough, far as I'm concerned. You can definitely do better than the Malfoy pup though. I know he keeps coming around to see you, and till now, you probably thought you had no choice. I mean, it's easier when you just go along with these things, right? But you don't need to anymore. You've got options, far better options, if you know what I mean. You don't have to put up with Malfoy anymore."_

_Despite Fenrir's attempt to come off as sympathetic Hermione's unease grew with every statement he uttered._

_"I'm tied up for a bit—important pack business. Won't be around to mate during the next two full moons either. But don't you worry," Fenrir reassured her with a smile, "I've ordered cook to give Malfoy contraceptives with his food so, you know, he can't get you in trouble even if he tries."_

It may have been due to his status as an alpha or simply the way he was, but Fenrir appeared to believe that the things he said would win favour with Hermione when all they did was make her question his sanity and his humanity. Unsettling though his visit had been, Fenrir helped make a couple of things clear: She wasn't willing to be with just about anyone as a means of survival, and she needed to take a more direct approach with Draco as she was running out of time.

"Since you've forgotten all about it I want to remind you about my answer. Yes_—_my answer is yes. I want to be with you, Draco."

"You say yes now, but do you understand what it means? I'm just a beta. I have nothing to my name—not even my name. If we bond, it's not a temporary thing. You won't ever be able to get away from me. Even if you escape, even if the war ends and your side emerges victorious, you'll still be bound to me," he warned.

She ignored his words, opting instead to work on the row of buttons that ran down the front of his robes.

"Did you know," she began as soon as she'd exposed some of the skin at his throat.

"—that—" she pressed a soft kiss to his throat.

"—Fenrir's been putting—" another button opened and another soft kiss, lower this time.

"—contraceptives—" she continued to expose his pale skin, kissing every bit exposed.

"—in your food?"

From the look on his face, he did not.

"He's afraid you'll get me pregnant again, before he has a chance to."

He was growling again, she noticed. One of these days, she was really going to have to figure this whole seduction business out.

"You're worried about Fenrir. Is that why you're okay with this?" Draco asked, gesturing between them.

He was smart to ask that, she had asked herself the same many times.

"We already have Wilbur and Martin. Even if they're raised by the pack, we are already linked together by our sons... but that's not the only reason I want to be with you, Draco. And right now," she paused to slide the straps of her shift down her shoulders and shimmy out of it all together, "I'd like to be with you without the haze of the potion or my belly heavy and uncomfortable."

"Witch!" he groaned, falling to his knees and sticking his nose into the apex of her thighs. Draco inhaled her scent and rubbed his face in her arousal. He wasted no time as he used his broad tongue to lap up her juices. She was so sweet and even if he could not get her pregnant today, he could still enjoy her willing flesh.

She held on to him by his hair, yanking on it to pull him closer. He responded by encouraging her to ride his face. He would proudly walk out of here, the envy of every other wolf when they smelled him covered in her scent. His witch was moaning and writhing against his face drowning him in her juices even as he greedily lapped it away. She had not been this wet even with the potion; it made his wolf howl in pride within him. He had chosen her, and she had chosen him right back.

Draco used his tongue to penetrate her passage. His nose bumping against her clit, he speared his tongue in and out of her pussy, the way his cock was dying to do. She was going to come apart any moment now and he wanted to feel her climax on his prick. Continuing to fuck her with his tongue, he slipped off his robes. Before Hermione could register what was happening, he was standing and had one of her legs hooked around his hip. Taking his cock in one hand, Draco slowly thrust into her.

The sensation of being suddenly full of his hard cock made Hermione come with a long hiss. When her climax ended, Draco wrapped both her legs around his waist and walked her to the bed on the other side of the room, his dick still sheathed within her. With her legs kept wrapped around him, he placed her on the edge of the bed and began to drill his cock in and out of her. The position allowed him to drive into her, leaving her no option but to take him in to the hilt. Hermione could swear she felt his cock nudge against her cervix; he was so deep inside her.

He plucked at her sensitive nipples causing them to harden into points and leak droplets of milk. He stared slack-jawed at her milk, a reminder she had borne his children and was fertile enough to give him more, and snapped his hips forward more furiously. He seemed eager to release his seed in her, even though the contraceptive would prevent it from taking hold.

Draco pushed his arms beneath her shoulder blades and raised her so she was pressed against his chest. He nuzzled her neck and licked along the pulse point at her neck. He suckled it, gently at first and then with greater pressure, moaning as he did so.

"Draco, Draco, Draco," Hermione chanted in his ear. Her entire self tingled as their magic reached out to each other, eager to complete their bond. She nuzzled and licked his neck in the way he had hers. Feeling him shudder, she took it further by nipping at it.

"Yours," Draco grunted over and over as she continued to tease the sensitive spot.

From what Cora had told her, he would have to bite her in his wolf form to be marked as his, but she was curious to see how he would react if she bit him in a similar manner.

"Mine," she announced and bit down hard.

Draco howled in ecstasy as her teeth broke through skin and sank into his flesh. He forced himself all the way in just in time to shoot his release into her. Regretting that it wasn't possible to knot with her in his human form, Draco desperately ground himself against her to stimulate her clit with the base of his penis. He did not have to keep it up for long before her inner walls were clenching his dick, squeezing it of every drop of come.

He lay on her heavily in the aftermath, waiting for their breathing to even out. He sensed in her the same feeling of contentment he was experiencing. They hadn't completed the mate bonds—they would need the full moon for that—but their magic had caressed each other and acknowledged the other as their mate.

Eventually, noticing she was struggling to breathe beneath his weight, he moved them to a more comfortable position on the bed, arranging her on his chest once he stretched out. A few minutes later Draco nearly purred in self-satisfaction when Hermione drifted off to sleep utterly sated in his arms.

Draco gave some thought to the things he learnt that day from the curly haired witch gently snoring on top of him. Even though she said she wanted him and was choosing him, it was not much of a choice for her; he was just the lesser of two evils. He was not foolish enough to think that getting her pregnant against her will would have endeared him to her any more than his actions towards her throughout their school years and during the current war would have.

Yet, he felt hopeful.

His witch possessed a kind and generous spirit. She did not abandon anything or anyone she decided to dedicate herself to, which is why Draco was certain that despite their unconventional beginnings, if Hermione completed the mate bond with him, she would do her best to make things work between them.

Naturally, it all depended on how the war progressed and concluded. The kind of person she was, Hermione would always want to resist the Dark Lord's regime and as a Muggleborn, she would always be considered a lesser being in a world ruled by Lord Voldemort. Of course, as a werewolf the same applied to him now. His family was wizarding aristocracy and loyal to the Dark Lord, but Draco was considered no better than a mongrel crup trained to carry out their orders.

In the time following his turning, Draco experienced firsthand the prejudices by his side towards anyone they did not consider pure. Low-ranking Death Eaters, who once did not dare to look upon the Malfoy heir, felt emboldened now to mock him and order him around. For his part, Draco realised that as a creature, he was no less of a wizard now than he was before. If anything, lycanthropy gave him physical strength, he previously lacked despite his tall frame, as well as magical prowess that let him cast nearly all the basic spells wandlessly. In light of his recent experiences, he could not imagine how much worse it must have been for someone as brilliant as Hermione to hear anyone tell her she was worthless because of her Muggle heritage; no wonder she had always seemed so determined to prove herself all the time.

Draco doubted things would ever be the same for him again. His parents had pretty much severed ties with him and when they did occasionally see him, they looked at him with such disappointment for turning into a werewolf, as if he had been given a choice. The Dark Lord in his infinite wisdom had decided the best punishment for a wizard who was unable to kill was to turn him into a murderous beast with bloodlust. But of course, that had turned out to be yet another lie he was raised to believe was true.

Upon his turning, Draco quickly discovered that while werewolves did succumb to their animal instincts during the full moon, those instincts usually fell into one of three categories—feed, fuck, and fight. As pack creatures, they preferred the company of their kind during their transformation, so the fighting was usually between wolves of the pack trying to establish a pecking order by displaying their strength. Wolves that went on murderous rampages were usually lone wolves, raging due to their inability to be part of a pack, or like Greyback, with an inclination towards sadism that had nothing to do with their lupine natures.

In the new world order, prejudice had become the basis of law. All creatures and beings not considered pure were subjugated and forced to serve their Pureblood masters. As bad as he felt at the plight of others, the true horror of their collective actions did not dawn upon him until he saw Voldemort's vision come to fruition. He had fantasised about a world where Purebloods ruled over all when he allowed himself to be branded with that hideous Dark Mark. But sheltered and indoctrinated as he was in Pureblood beliefs, Draco could not have anticipated the atrocities the Death Eaters would commit in their quest for purification. Long before Hermione's arrival, even before being turned into a werewolf, Draco had decided he did not fit in the cruel society the Dark Lord was creating. It was why despite his fall from grace Draco found happiness at Bleidd as it offered a respite from the ugly world outside. But with Hermione as his mate there would be no hiding away from the ugliness. What else was he to do then?

The Dark Lord was as good as immortal since he could bring himself back even if he was killed. The Death Eaters had wealth, power and political influence, unlike the Light side. On the plus side, a majority of British wizarding society was either neutral or like him unhappy with the changes made to their society. In terms of actual numbers, the Death Eaters and Black Cloaks were still in the minority. Based on his conversations with Cora as well as the things he picked up from the talks of the visiting Death Eaters, the Dark Lord's experiments into building himself some kind of hybrid part wizard-part creature soldiers had yielded zero results so far.

Draco absentmindedly rubbed circles on Hermione's back, enjoying the feel of her bare skin under his fingers. He smiled at the sound of her softly sighing in her sleep. How nice it would be, to live in a world where he and Hermione could always be together like this and raise their pups with the pack, without fearing for their safety. He had seen enough violence and death in the years following the return of the Dark Lord to last several lifetimes, but as much as he longed for peace, Draco knew he had not earned it yet.


	16. Chapter 16

Hermione watched Ginny finally asleep on the narrow cot she was provided. She made it a point to visit the witch alone for a few hours every day as she suspected it was the only time the younger witch managed to sleep at all. Ginny had made significant recovery under Cora's watchful eye. With the exception of her limp and the scars on her neck- the result of a cursed blade, not a Diffindo as originally presumed- at least physically Ginny was back to her old self. Even the bald patches on her head had finally begun to sprout hair so she was slowly beginning to look more and more like herself. Unfortunately the same could not be said about her personality.

It was hard to figure out Ginny's triggers, she could go from vacant-eyed absent to inconsolably weeping in a split second. There were also moments where she could be incredibly cruel with her words. But those moments were usually reserved for her, thought Hermione, recalling one such incident from a few weeks before the twins were born.

_"So **what**? What does that matter?" Ginny asked. "It doesn't change what he did, Hermione. I can't believe you let him fuck you again."_

_"He couldn't really help it, Gin, just like I couldn't help feeling aroused," Hermione said. "It was this new fertility potion- makes you mad with lust. He was just acting on instinct when he did what he did." _

_"I don't know how you could stand to even look at him after he raped you," Ginny said. _

_"He was just as much of a victim as I was," Hermione said. "Besides, if not him it would've been someone else. Riddle intended me as a plaything for Fenrir's pack- our fates were sealed the minute we were caught. At least with Draco..." Hermione paused trying to think of a way to explain her complicated relationship with Draco without further upsetting Ginny. "I just don't want to blame him for things when he's the one trying to help. It's not fair to him."_

_"It's not exactly fair to us, either, Hermione," Ginny said hugging herself. "He's no innocent. He's in this situation because of his own choices. He willingly took the Dark Mark and let Death Eaters into Hogwarts. He may not have killed Dumbledore himself but he sure helped make it possible."_

_"It all seems so long ago now to me, that it hardly seems to matter. I just want to make it through this." Hermione slumped in her bed, rubbing her hands over her face. "I don't want to argue. I'm tired and my stomach hurts."_

_"Well, you should've thought about that before going to your Death Eater lover for a shag in your condition like some cheap slag," Ginny said as she lay down in her bed, facing away from Hermione. _

_Hermione opened her mouth to say something. Shut it with a sigh and stretched out on her bed hoping to get some sleep._

Sadly, there were far more conversations with Ginny in that vein than any other since their reunion. Things only improved after Ginny was given her own room and Hermione gave birth. As she no longer witnessed Hermione's comings and goings with Draco and with Hermione no longer sporting a pregnant belly that served as a reminder of her transgressions, Ginny finally stopped lashing out at her friend and using taunts like _Death Eater slut _when talking to her.

Unfortunately, despite all this progress Hermione was unable to have a single productive conversation with Ginny. As fragile as her state of mind was, the only subject they could discuss without running the risk of upsetting Ginny was talking about happier times at Hogwarts. Reminders of her family, Harry, or even the Order often resulted in an anxiety attack if not a complete breakdown. It was despair- that much was clear to Hermione; Ginny had given up on ever making it back to her loved ones.

As sympathetic as Hermione was to Ginny's plight, her inability to answer her questions was turning out to be a real problem. While they remained captive it was only Ginny who could help her answer the question bugging her for a while now: _Who was the traitor in the Order?_

For over three months the Order kept a close watch on high ranking Ministry bureaucrat, Dolores Umbridge. All of Hermione's research suggested that the locket worn by their old Defence teacher was the very same Slytherin family heirloom that was later made into a horcrux by Voldemort. In recent years every photograph of Umbridge published in the Daily Prophet showed her wearing the locket, but no one had thought to investigate it assuming it was just another fake just like the one they retrieved from the inferi infested cave some years ago. After all, there was no reason why Umbridge, a Halfblood and mid-level Death Eater, should have possession of such a valuable artefact.

Hermione only began to suspect Umbridge's locket was real when reading one of the Prophet's latest propaganda pieces praising the works of Dolores Umbridge, Minister for Cultural Preservation, for her untiring work towards helping rid their world of the Muggle scourge. While Umbridge had always been sadistic and fond of abusing her authority there appeared to have been a distinct shift in her personality in recent years amplifying her cruelty to new and unprecedented levels. It was Umbridge who provided the Death Eaters the means to commit genocide by establishing the Muggleborn Registration Commission. Umbridge worked to weaken the powers of the Improper Use of Magic Office so that the practice of Dark Magic became acceptable and the torturing and killing of Muggles only a petty infraction. And most recently, it was Umbridge who decided that instead of an invitation letter to Hogwarts Muggleborn children and their families receive an Avada on their eleventh birthdays.

Looking at Umbridge's biography and the picture of her wearing the locket, Hermione decided to dig through old copies of the Prophet to check if Umbridge had always worn it and found that the locket began appearing in photographs right around the time she started making the first of her policy changes at the Ministry. Hermione then dug up her old notes from the time they interrogated Mundungus Fletcher on the whereabouts of the locket and noticed that Umbridge only began sporting her locket some months after Mundungus lost possession of the horcrux. Inebriated as he was at the time of its confiscation, Mundungus was unable to provide the Order with a name or even an accurate description of the person who took the locket from him. He only made one statement worth noting at the time, _"Looked like a regular Ministry toady, 'cept this one had a Dark Mark on its arm." _

They had assumed the individual was male and since it was a Death Eater they presumed the locket must have made its way back to Voldemort. Looking at all the pieces of information, there was a good chance Umbridge did possess the genuine locket just as there was a chance she was wearing a copy of the locket to set a trap for the Order. Considering Umbridge had worn the locket for years, the latter seemed unlikely.

With no other leads to pursue, they had voted in favour of going after Umbridge's locket. Hermione, Ron and Bill were working on a plan to break into Umbridge's home, which would be less guarded than the Ministry, while the Death Eaters and Black Cloaks were busy with their Samhain Revels. However less than a month before the day they were to execute their plan the Order received intelligence that hinted the cursed locket was hidden somewhere in the ruins of the old Riddle House.

Security around the ruins of Riddle House was lax as it was only guarded by a few Black Cloaks posted there to discourage curious tourists from poking around for clues that may substantiate the claims published by the Order about Voldemort's true origins. It was hard to believe that Voldemort would choose to acknowledge his Muggle roots by hiding his horcrux there so Hermione had opted to stay focused on Umbridge. But there were a few Order members who thought the ruins were worth looking into. Of the Order members posted at their safe house the only ones not assigned to any duty at the time were Ginny Weasley and Padma Patil. It was decided that the two would go on a quick reconnaissance mission to check if the place tested positive for high levels of Dark Magic.

Unlike Ginny, Hermione was a last minute addition to the mission. Restless from only being assigned to research and planning for over a year, Hermione thought a night out would do her some good. Hours before they were due to leave Hermione asked Ginny if she could tag along, which the younger witch promptly agreed to. Their objective for the night was simple enough there was no need for any briefing or preparation.

When Hermione arrived outside the wards of the safe house at the appointed time to only find Ginny waiting there for her she didn't think to question Padma's absence. Things were awkward between them ever since Padma started dating Ron a few months ago. Like Hermione, Ginny too hoped that Ron and Hermione would eventually work out their differences and be together, so both witches refused to acknowledge that Ron and Padma were in a relationship. At the time Hermione assumed Padma had simply dropped out once she heard she would be stuck with both Ginny and Hermione for the night.

That fateful October night, under the cover of darkness, both witches were able to easily apparate to their desired location, a short walk from the Riddle House. A quickly cast Homenum Revelio confirmed there were no humans at the ruins, it was followed by a few other spells to test for wards. They proceeded only after confirming it was safe to do so. Once there Ginny cast a spell to test for Dark Magic while Hermione barely began to cast a revealing spell- on the odd chance the locket was there and wasn't well hidden- when suddenly they sensed a change in the air surrounding them signalling that Anti-Apparition wards had gone up.

Sensing danger both witches ran towards the edge of the wards only to run into a group of Death Eaters who looked surprised to see them soon as they recognised who they were. Taking in the food and wine lying around as well as the number of Death Eaters present, clearly they had gathered there for some event and weren't expecting to have any sort of run in with the order, still, with the numbers in their favour they succeeded in subduing both witches.

It was only later when Hermione recalled the events of that night that it dawned on her how the wards weren't triggered till Ginny cast a spell. It was almost as if Ginny's magical signature set off the wards that herded them in the direction of the waiting group of Death Eaters. If true, it meant that Ginny was definitely the intended target that night.

But, why would anyone in the Order want to help Ginny get captured, who stood to gain from it? Was Padma's absence that night just her good fortune or was she involved in some way? What was the source of the intelligence that directed them to the ruins that night? How was the message relayed to them? Who all among them would have known their schedules and known Ginny would be assigned for the mission that night? Hermione had many such questions and since Ginny was assigned to the mission, she would know the details that could help answer Hermione's questions.

However, with Ginny's fragile state it didn't seem likely to happen. Ginny needed help to cope with her experience, to move past it. She was going to be no use till she recovered from her trauma. Did their desperate situation warrant resorting to desperate measures?

Hermione had long shown a proficiency in performing memory charms, having gone as far as erasing herself completely from her parents' memories when she first heard the drums of war beat. Over the years she had plenty of occasions to perfect her technique, so now it was only a matter of minutes for her to locate and, extract or erase specific memories without arousing any suspicions. Having seen the effects of her captivity at Malfoy Manor and Chateau Lestrange, Hermione was considering erasing that entire period from Ginny's memory as she was certain there was nothing in there that Ginny would want to remember. Of course she would first extract memories of the atrocities perpetrated against Ginny should there ever come a time her assailants stood trial for their crimes.

Altering Ginny's memories was not an option Hermione could have considered before. But since it looked like Draco intended for her to have Professor Dumbledore's wand she could easily perform the necessary magic. She just couldn't decide if it would really be in Ginny's best interest to leave a blank hole in her head for all those months she was held captive.

The biggest snag in the plan was the pregnancy. Because of the pregnancy Ginny would suspect she had been raped and then would she not feel worse when she failed to recall the details? Would she not consider Hermione tampering with her memories to be a violation in itself no matter her reasons for doing so?

She wished to confer with someone else, but Cora couldn't be relied upon for help in matters not concerning the pack and while Draco could be objective, she knew Ginny would hate her for making such a crucial decision about her based on a discussion with a Malfoy. Hermione looked at Ginny fast asleep and wished there was a way for her to talk her friend and get her opinion on the course of action she was considering taking.

* * *

Fenrir rarely visited now, confirming that he wasn't really attracted to her beyond her reproductive abilities. Since he couldn't mate with Hermione till he was done with Cora's potion regimen his attempts to woo Hermione stopped altogether. She imagined he would start again at the end of three months when he was done with the potions or _important pack business _as he called it, she remembered with a snort. He also stopped keeping a close eye on Draco. Maybe Fenrir had taken measures to ensure Hermione couldn't get pregnant till he was ready for her or was simply too cocky to imagine she wouldn't wait for him, whatever his reasons, Fenrir was no longer dictating Draco's daily schedule or finding excuses to see Hermione every day. And the pair welcomed this change.

They spend a lot of their time training, with Draco even handing her Professor Dumbledore's wand for a few of their training sessions. The wand was an odd fit- though it was far more effective as a conduit for her magic than any wand not her own, something still didn't feel right about the wand.

Most of their training sessions were spent with Draco trying to get Hermione to cast wandlessly again. But, no matter how much he fought her, beat her or in general tried to frustrate her during training she was unable to produce a wandless magical blast. Hermione preferred the use of a wand, the idea of trying to channel something she had little to no control over scared her. Draco remained optimistic, he believed with enough training she would figure out how to manipulate her emotional state to unleash her raw magic at will.

Of course, training wasn't the only physical thing the couple did during their time alone together.

* * *

One hand maintained a bruising grip on Hermione's hip while the other pinned her wrists above her head to the wall, his balls slapping against her arse with every frantic thrust. Without Hermione's bulging stomach and impending labour to worry about, Draco fucked like the beast the moon turned him into.

Longing to touch him, Hermione whined in frustration and wriggled about trying to free her hands from his steely grip, but trapped as she was against the wall her struggles only left her soaked in the milk dribbling from her breasts.

Draco pulled out and quickly spun her around. He grabbed her legs, jerking them up and around his hips. Wasting no time he immediately fucked right back into her. Eyes shut, head thrown back, and mouth hanging open he enjoyed the way her pussy squeezed the head of his cock every time he thrust into her. Upon opening his eyes, his attention was immediately drawn to the mouth-watering sight made by Hermione's breasts as they glistened with milk and sweat in the light of the moon. Leaning forward he wrapped his mouth around a teat, and gave it a hard suck.

Hermione cried out, arching away from the wall. Her fingers tangled in Draco's hair. Her clit throbbed, painfully sensitive after being brought to orgasm so many times already. She shuddered as Draco sucked again, milk rushing out, then whined in protest when he pulled away to watch milk bead at the tip of her nipple.

Draco lapped the milk up and fucked harder into Hermione. This was nearly perfect, he thought as he came inside her with one last snap of his hips.

This was nearly perfect, was the thought echoed in Hermione's head as she collapsed panting against the wall, but she knew how to make it better even if it wasn't a full moon tonight. She stretched out her neck, submissively baring it to Draco in an unspoken invitation.

Even in the throes of his orgasm, Draco did not miss the gesture. Leaning forward he licked spot he wished to mark before sinking his teeth in.

Hermione hissed from the unexpected pleasure that came with the bite. She wrapped her arms and legs around him trying to pull him further into her. For one brief second she could have sworn he'd sprouted fur on his back.

Draco groaned in pleasure as she tightened around his cock. For a brief second after he bit into her, his wolf came forward to claim his witch, something she welcomed by drawing him in further. Satisfied, his wolf howled, this way he was able to mark her without completely changing her. Draco, torn between feeling an overwhelming desire to fill her belly with his pups once more and saddened by the knowledge that it would be a while before he was able to do so, failed to register what his wolf said to him. He slumped heavily against Hermione for a moment weak kneed from the powerful orgasm he had experienced. He took a few seconds to recover then carried Hermione over to the bed. The pack was watching the twins tonight and Draco recalled he still had a promise to keep. Sometime before the birth of their boys Draco had promised to give his witch a thorough fucking which he fully intended to deliver on tonight. The witch wasn't going to be able to walk for the next few weeks, he thought with smug satisfaction, without feeling just how thorough he'd been with her tonight.

* * *

Hermione stood hidden in an alcove in the courtyard listening to a rather interesting conversation taking place among a group of unknown werewolves. Recently her hearing was sharper than usual; she knew she wasn't imagining it as the group stood at a distance sheltered by a cluster of trees. She must've been standing downwind from them as they weren't alerted to her presence.

"I don't get why only the Malfoy brat gets to breed her. A witch capable of carrying wolf pups to term is a rare find... We should all get to share her."

"Yeah, I'd like a go at her - You can bet she wouldn't even need that bloody potion... I'd give her so many children."

There was a mix of sounds of laughter and scoffing noises.

"But isn't it true that only true mates can have children?"

"Someone's been spending time with Oskar's pack."

"So it isn't true, sir?"

"Can't say, pup... Never been part of a pack before."

"Well, the only children that survived in my old pack were born to true mates. We had mated pairs who managed to conceive, but their babies usually died during the shift."

"Ye had wee ones in yer ole pack?"

"Not really. The babies born were human so we send them away for their safety. We were a fairly new pack, didn't have any Elder to guide us like some of the old European packs. We barely knew what we were doing as werewolves, just moving around, trying to satisfy our instincts but not get killed for it."

"That's what life was like for most of us, brother. It's why we never wanted children. It felt too cruel to inflict such a life on them."

"Aye, 'tis na leef fur a bairn."

"Exactly! After the kind of life I've led, it feels like a blessing to hold the twins... I'd love to have my own pups soon."

"Well, you'll need to wait your turn as Fenrir plans on having her first."

"Is it true he's never sired any pups in all this time?"

"I don't think I care for your tone. Remember your place, omega."

"Forgive me, sir. It's just that Draco's already sired twins and from the look of things he's likely to get the witch up the duff again."

"Once again, you ought to watch your tone. If the alpha hears such talk he'll have you on your back with his jaws wrapped around your neck."

"The pup does have a point though, Logan. Fenrir's neglected his pack in favour of service to the Dark Lord while Draco favours us by bringing new blood into the pack."

"You forget, Arnold, it was the alpha's service to the Dark Lord that earned him the witch who brings new life to the pack."

"Which brings us to the point I was making earlier... about how we all need to get our turn with her-"

"You men speak as if Draco didn't land each of you on your arses to earn the right to breed her the first time," said an older sounding man, ending his words with a snort.

"It really was something, right? I'm mated so I wasn't involved that night, but just watching him rip his way through the competition- phew- made my wolf shudder and want to yield to him even without a fight."

There were sounds of agreement from several voices.

"Think he could be an alpha?"

A chorus of disagreeing sounds this time.

"He's too young to say really."

"No way!"

"He had one good night. Never seen him fight like that before... or since. One good night doesn't make you an alpha."

There was an assortment of assenting voices this time.

"Anyone of you that thinks you stand a chance with that witch, has lost his mind. Doesn't matter what the alpha's promised, there's no way Draco's letting anyone within sniffing distance of her. Far as I can tell, he's bonded with her."

"Bollocks. If he's bonded with her how come he's been rutting with a different moon mate these past full moons- What? What's with that look?"

"That's on the alpha- commanded Draco to rut with the omegas."

"Think about it, you fool. Why would a beta willingly fuck an omega?"

The question was followed by a chorus of agreeing noises.

"I heard Draco was given no choice. Lanie was complaining about how he threw up soon as they were done knotting."

"Mmhmm. Wonder why Fenrir's mad at Draco this time. It's pretty clear from the way he acts around the witch he's bonded with her, so to force him to rut with someone else..."

"I may be a pup but even I know that's a cruel thing to do to a wolf."

"Arnold, you really need to do a better job of keeping these pups in line. They can't be questioning their alpha's actions in this manner!"

"Come on, Logan, Mitchell has a valid question-"

"Whatever he's mad about, you can be sure it's got nothing to do with pack business. I mean, when was the last time the alpha punished anyone for doing something bad to the pack?"

"I don't care for your tone or whatever it is you're implying. We volunteered for the experiments. We knew what to expect... Besides, I don't get how anyone can complain when we have two beautiful boys as a result of those experiments?"

"But do we know for sure if the boys were born because of the experiments or because Draco and Hermione are true mates?"

"Let's say all that thestral dung about _true mates_ is real. If not for the experiments the twins would be regular humans, not lycans."

The statement caused several different people in the group to speak up at once so it was hard to tell if the voices agreed or disagreed.

Finally one voice rang out louder than the rest. "We don't know if they're lycans. We won't know till they're in their teens."

"Really? Tell me something Arnold; you had children in your old pack, right? Did they smell like pack or prey to you?"

The question resulted in another chaotic buzz of conversations till the voice that asked the question spoke again.

"You all know what I mean. Our wolves recognise the twins as pack. Our wolves will never pose a threat to Wilbur and Martin because we see them as one of us. Now, why do you think that is?"

"I thought it was because they were Draco's pups."

"It has to be because of Draco's scent. I mean, my wolf also recognises the witch as pack now. I figured it had to be because of Draco's scent masking their own."

"You're right. Her scent doesn't bother me like it used to. I figured it had something to do with her smelling like the twins."

"The only reason for her scent to not bother us is if she's bonded with the pack, which would only happen if she's bonded with someone from the pack as she's still human."

"So they really have bonded then, eh?"

"Can't be. Don't you think Fenrir would've gotten wind of it if that was the case? Would Fenrir be making all those plans for her if she's already bonded with someone else?"

"Yes, if we feel the pack bond, Fenrir would definitely feel the alpha bond with her."

"Unless..."

"What?"

"No!"

"No way!"

"Oh shite!"

"What? What is it?"

"He doesn't know because there's no alpha bond."

"That's not possible. With the mate bond, the alpha bond would also fall into place."

"So if Fenrir doesn't know but we all recognise her as pack, that can only mean..."

"Fucken hell!'

"What does that mean?"

"Another alpha."

"Sounds like trouble to me."

"Aye."

"Look, I think this is all a bunch of nonsense-"

"Do not repeat this discussion. If the alpha catches wind..."

"She's bonded with a different alpha."

"Let's talk to Gunnolf. Surely he knows something that'll explain what's going on."

"Do you think it's someone in the pack?"

"We're making a mistake. Clearly we must be. How can there be another alpha?"

"Screw that. I'm gonna find Oskar. That old dog always seems to know what's going on."

"Shut up! Don't breathe a word of this to anyone-"

From that point it became harder to track the conversation as they resorted to hushed whispers. Clearly the werewolves were spooked by the idea that there may be another alpha in their midst. She was thankful for whatever she did manage to hear as it offered her helpful insight into her situation. She would need to speak with Draco and even Oskar to help clear some things up but it sounded like she and Draco had managed to bond together and their sons were a new breed of lycanthropes.


	17. Chapter 17

"I know we're supposed to be pack creatures, but at the rate Fenrir's been turning people recently it's beginning to get too crowded around here."

Draco handed Gunnolf a couple of pieces of parchment which Gunnolf began to peruse immediately.

"He says it's to make up for our losses- be it the result of the Dark Lord's missions or the Dark Lord's experiments. As alpha he hasn't grieved for any of their deaths. To him we're all replaceable. I see you've reassigned quarters," he said pointing to the names on one of the pieces of parchment, "you've got most omegas sharing quarters with- they're all pups, aren't they?"

Draco nodded.

"With this many new _weres_ in the pack I thought it would help them transition better if each of them was paired with someone more experienced. The omegas come across as less threatening and they're happy they get to be useful to the pack. I'd like to test this arrangement out," Draco stated decisively.

"Well, you do have an instinct for these things so I'm willing to give it a try. But if it ends up making no difference we need to go back to housing all the newly turned _weres_ in the dormitory near Cora's quarters."

"Of course... I also wanted to talk to you about building extra housing. I was thinking the parcel of land on the South East limit of the castle lands would be ideal." Draco picked up the parchment with the map of their territory and pointed to the area referenced. "The woods bordering the land are really thick at this point so we're not going likely to get any visitors accidentally dropping by. Plus the stream-"

"Having pack members housed outside, away from the rest of us?" asked Gunnolf looking up at Draco. He shoved the piece of parchment back to Draco. "No, I refuse to allow it. Our pack bonds are strained enough as it is, they wouldn't sustain the added stress of living separately."

"What do you mean?"

"Our pack is too big! I realise you don't know anything of pack life outside of your experience here, but, this" -he picked up the fat file on his desk which held every pack member's profile- "is not normal. Doesn't matter how organised the pack or powerful the alpha, a pack should never be larger than a hundred members."

"Why's that?"

"The pack bond, obviously. It's a huge strain to care for so many people. The pack bonds grow weaker from the strain on them- which in our case in a blessing and a curse, I suppose. We're unable to feel the agony of the ones being tortured right here, on our grounds, but we're also unable to blindly trust that each member has our back."

"What do you normally do when your numbers grow?"

"Pack usually splits. The one groomed to be the next alpha takes with them whoever wishes to join them and forms a new pack. This is the basis for pack alliances since neighbouring packs typically comprise of former pack members."

"Wait, I thought an alpha's powers are innate?"

"Yes, there are alphas who get their powers from their sire. But there are also those who acquire their powers by defeating an existing alpha. Lastly, there are alphas who gained their powers from the pack- the pack's acceptance of them as their leader helps them ascend to their powers. Of course this can only happen if the current alpha doesn't challenge the ascension."

Draco recalled some pack gossip related to Gunnolf that had not made sense to him before. He realised now the head beta was due to ascend to alpha status before Fenrir murdered his previous alpha.

"Argh," Draco shrieked and collapsed to the ground holding his left forearm.

"What in Hades!" Gunnolf stood up and rushed to where Draco lay on the ground.

"My Dark Mark," he managed between gasps for breath.

Once the pain subsided, he stood up with help from the other man and wiped the tears from his eyes. "The Dark Lord's summoning his Death Eaters. He's angry. Haven't felt my mark hurt this way in years, and not once since I accepted Fenrir's bond."

"Something big is going on," said Gunnolf returning to his seat at the desk now that Draco seemed okay. "Fenrir left this morning looking gleeful while our guests looked on edge- heard more than a couple of them grumbling about Harry Potter being at it again."

"If the Dark Lord is upset- especially if Harry Potter is involved- the Death Eaters have good reason to be nervous."

"Why would his followers be nervous?"

"The Dark Lord has quite the temper. He cares little for who gets caught in the crossfire when he's venting his rage. It's even worse if he thinks you're responsible in any way."

"Is that what happened with you?" asked Gunnolf quietly.

Draco shook his head.

"I let Harry Potter get away."

"**The **Harry Potter? Undesirable number one?"

"Yes. I couldn't kill him."

Without skipping a beat Gunnolf asked, "But, did you want to?"

Draco was pleasantly surprised that instead of assuming the worst of him, Gunnolf had chosen to ask such a question.

"I used to think I did," he replied, then sat down heavily in a chair across from Gunnolf without bothering to ask for permission first. "I was so stupid. I used to think war would be an exciting adventure. I used to think it would be extremely satisfying to get rid of my enemies with a flick of my wand..."

He remembered all those times in school he resented the presence of the Non-Purebloods, how he wished he could just do away with the Mudbloods and Halfbloods. Back when the use of any Unforgivable was a punishable offence he used to lament the narrow mindedness of wizards like Dumbledore, who he believed were holding back the progress of their kind. But then the Dark Lord and his followers moved into Malfoy Manor and Draco witnessed firsthand the curses and their effects; he finally understood then just why they were considered unforgivable. By the time the practice of the Unforgivables became part of their seventh year curriculum Draco knew what a true fool he had been.

"I used to think that way about being a werewolf," said Gunnolf interrupting his thoughts. The head beta stood up and went to the window behind his chair to stare at the rolling hills in the distance.

"In my old pack we didn't turn children till we completed adolescence. The pack did such a good job of sheltering us children from the challenges of being a werewolf that I grew resentful- I thought they were denying me these incredible powers. I was barely fifteen when I broke free of the enchantments protecting me during the full moon. A couple of the other children, my friends, saw me and followed suit.

"We rushed towards the pack during the peak of the full moon- we were so excited to join our families in the festivities. We were such fools... The wolves didn't recognise our scent as pack; we were just food to them. It was sheer luck and my alpha's timely intervention that I was only turned and not slaughtered that night. My friends though, they weren't as lucky."

Draco watched Gunnolf's large hands clutch the window sill hard enough to make his knuckles go white. Though he couldn't see the other man's face it was obvious Gunnolf was struggling to compose himself. When he was finally able to do so, he turned to face Draco, settling himself against the window sill.

"By the time I experienced my first turn I had learnt two very important lessons. I understood that my actions could have consequences for others. And I finally understood why we were made to wait till we were adults before we were turned."

Draco listened to Gunnolf and couldn't help seeing the similarities between them. They were both men haunted by the foolish acts of their adolescence. At least the adults tried to shelter Gunnolf. The same couldn't be said for the adults in his life, with the exception of one individual.

_Draco, Draco, you are not a killer._

"Dumbledore tried to show me I was wrong, but it was too late by then. I had already set myself on a path."

"But, you didn't kill Harry Potter when you had the chance to?"

"I couldn't kill anyone- didn't matter how many chances I was given."

"You've never told the pack why you were punished. You let Fenrir spread his lies about you."

"It was no lie. I was punished for my cowardice."

"Not being able to kill doesn't make you a coward, Draco."

* * *

Draco left from his meeting with Gunnolf feeling a kinship with the man that went beyond pack bonds. As far as Draco was concerned Gunnolf was one of the bravest men he had ever known and to hear him say he wasn't a coward meant a great deal to Draco. By the time he picked up the twins and reached Hermione's quarters he was in a fairly good mood even if he was a little unsettled from feeling his Dark Mark burn earlier.

"Hey," she said at the sound of the door creaking open. She walked up to him and took Martin from his arms. "I need to talk to you - Oskar too, if possible."

"What is it?" asked Draco concerned by her tone.

"I overheard some of the werewolves talking and I need some answers." She paused to take a deep breath. Looking at him with her expressive brown eyes and with her tone greatly softened she added, "To be honest, I have lots of questions I'd like answers to, Draco."

He nodded in understanding. They had danced around certain topics for a while now, but perhaps it was time they spoke plainly.

Hermione visibly sagged in relief at his nod. She settled herself into an armchair and proceeded to open her blouse so she could nurse Martin- always the impatient one he was usually fed first. While her son peacefully fed from her she turned her eyes towards Draco who was sitting on the bed nearby.

"What do they mean when they say our sons are _lycans_?"

Draco was caught off guard by the unexpected question.

"It's nothing. Our sons are normal babies. We won't know if they are really lycans till they're in their teens."

Hermione shook her head and relayed to Draco what she overheard the man called Logan say about the boys.

Draco inhaled sharply when she was done. Merlin, as much as he wanted children he didn't really want them to bear his curse.

"Draco, what does it mean if they are lycans?" Hermione called out softly, prodding him for an answer.

"It means they're werewolves-"

"But, how is that possible?" asked Hermione cutting him off. "They didn't transform during the full moon."

"It's because of the experiments... The Dark Lord wanted an army of werewolves who could shift at will like the Lycans of legends. The pack agreed to participate in the experiments as we were promised the ability to have children in exchange. We knew the Dark Lord had developed a potion that improved fertility in wizards- we were told that with a little testing and tweaking the same could be done for our kind."

Draco recalled how simple the solution had seemed back then. But Oskar had always insisted that werewolves were creatures of fate- Luna was the one who decided for them, not some dark wizard, even if he was immortal now.

"We lost many members to those early trials... Eventually, they realised they were unable to induce transformations. The nature of the experiments changed then. It became all about the next generation. They gave us strange treatments meant to change us in a way that although any children we have would be lycanthropes they would only come into their heritage at puberty- quite like part-Veelas. With the exception of Cora, who's trained as a Healer, the rest of us didn't really understand most of what was being done to us. In the end we assumed it was another failure like the rest of the experiments."

Finally done feeding Martin appeared to be falling asleep. Draco took him from Hermione's arms and handed her Wilbur. He walked around the room with his son balanced on his arm, gently patting his back to make him burp. Draco cherished these domestic moments with his little family- they made it so easy to forget about the world outside.

"So our sons are werewolves," said Hermione letting out a deep sigh. She looked weary as she leaned back in the chair. "This world, the way it is, you understand it isn't fit for our children, right?"

Draco stopped his pacing to face her and nodded once.

"We need to stop Vol-" Hermione stopped herself just before she could finish saying the taboo name. "We need to stop Riddle. And Harry's the only one who can do it."

"And you need to be at _Harry's _side."

He didn't mean to sound petty but it bothered him that she still put Saint Potter first, even if he understood her reasons for doing so.

"Well, yes," she said in a matter-of-fact voice, confused with his sudden change in demeanour.

Done with burping his son, Draco began to gently rock him to sleep.

"You want to leave," he said in a toneless voice.

"I want this war over. And I don't think that's going to happen by people sitting idly by and going about their lives like everything is normal." She closed her eyes and recited the words her parents used to say to her to explain why evil existed in the world. "_Bad men need nothing more to compass their ends, than that good men should look on and do nothing._"

"He's not a man anymore, Hermione. He's an immortal. There's no point in killing him if he can just brings himself back."

"That is the lie he'd like everyone to believe," said Hermione with a vigorous shake of her head. "I heard you were there trying to protect Ravenclaw's Diadem before it was destroyed by the fiendfyre, can I assume it means you know what a horcrux is?"

Draco was tempted to forget years of etiquette lessons and utter a loud snort in response. Instead, he replied with a simple, "Yes."

"But do you know he only has a limited number of them? His tainted soul has been fractured to the extent he cannot create any new horcruxes."

Draco looked on in surprise.

"Based on the Order's collective research over the years, we have confirmed that there were just seven horcruxes made, of which four have already been successfully destroyed."

Draco was stunned. All this time they had dismissed the Order as being as good as dead while the Order had kept busy finding ways to get rid of the Dark Lord for good. It would make sense for the Dark Lord to react the way he did to news of the destruction of his diadem horcrux if he was unable to create any more horcruxes. Remembering the Dark Lord's reaction back then reminded Draco of the way his Dark Mark had burned a few hours ago.

"I suspect there may be some trouble headed our way. Earlier today my Dark Mark began to burn in a way that indicated _he_ was mad. I have yet to find out what it was about, but this morning the Death Eaters in residence were heard grumbling about Potter being active again."

"What was it, what did they say?" asked Hermione eager for any news on Harry and the Order.

"I've shared with you what I know. As a rule in general it's never good news when _he's _angry over something Potter's done. I fear if Potter is really involved _he _may think of using you and Ginny to lash out at Potter. Here," he said, extending to her Albus Dumbledore's old wand. "You should keep it hidden on you. Not that they can get to you here, but it'll put my mind at ease knowing you're armed."

Wilbur looked like he was done feeding so Hermione moved him to rest against her shoulder. She took the wand from Draco and accioed one of the bed sheets which she transfigured into a wand holster for herself. With another wave of her new wand the holster adhered itself to her arm and yet another wave turned it invisible. She then holstered the wand and moved on to the task of burping her son.

"Thank you for the wand, but you know I can never really be safe here. I'm going to have to leave soon," she told him while pacing the room and patting her son on his back.

"I know. It's not like you chose to be here."

Hermione walked up to the bed and sat beside him.

"I didn't choose to be here, but I do choose to be with you," she said and rested her head against his shoulder.

It never ceased to amaze him how far these little gestures from her went towards calming him. Draco swallowed the lump in his throat and nodded in acknowledgement.

"Draco, do you still believe in the Pureblood cause?" She assumed he didn't. She trusted that the man she had fallen in love with was someone who had moved on from his old prejudices, but she still needed to ask. They needed to have a clear discussion on exactly where they stood and how far were they willing to go for their causes.

He shook his head, looked at Hermione and then at Wilbur drooling as he lay there draped over his mother's shoulder. "How could I when I see examples of just why it's wrong?" He pressed one soft kiss to his son's head and another to Hermione's. "We were wrong. I was wrong. I figured it out long ago, even before I was turned. I just... I don't know what to do, Hermione. Fenrir leads the pack, but he sides with the Dark Lord's cause. But, I can't abandon the pack as I'd most likely go mad and end up being a danger to you and the pups."

"You and the pups belong here, but my place is at Harry's side." Feeling Draco's body go rigid beside her she quickly added, "Just until Riddle falls and the war is won, my place is at Harry's side."

She looked at him. His face was blank and his mouth hardened into a tight line.

"The war won't be won with the fall of the Dark Lord. The Death Eaters control Great Britain- they may have failed elsewhere, but they have a stranglehold on this country. And with them, we wouldn't just be fighting people, we'd be battling ideologies. It won't be as simple as winning a physical war, defeating them will require **years** of civil war."

"Then we just keep fighting. As Professor Dumbledore often said, though evil can never be eradicated it can be kept at bay if we fight it again and again." She moved to lay Wilbur down to sleep on the bed, beside his brother, before turning around to face Draco. "It chills me to contemplate the long-term consequences of allowing this evil regime to continue unchecked. What kind of world will our sons inherit if the Death Eaters aren't stopped when they commit mass atrocities? Draco, we've both seen enough evidence these past few years to know their bloodlust won't be satisfied by getting rid of the Muggleborns... If our sons are truly werewolves, how long before some bigot goes from questioning their right to be a part of society to questioning their right to exist at all?"

"Granger," he snapped at her, "I'm not arguing against the idea of fighting Death Eaters. I'm arguing against being separated from you for as long as is needed to win this gods-damned-war."

She looked at him in wide-eyed surprise. She was sure he would need a lot more convincing. Before she could get over her shock he continued.

"You want to fight to change the world? Okay, but let's figure out a way to do it together, because I don't think I'll survive being away from you for too long."

Lost for words Hermione simply climbed into his lap and hugged him.

"Yours," she said affectionately, stroking the mark she had left on his shoulder as her claim on him.

"Yours," he replied, his chin resting on her head.

They stayed like that for some time enjoying the closeness knowing the time for them to separate was drawing near.

Hermione was the first to break the silence when she quietly said to him, "Some of the werewolves think we've already bonded. I think they're right." She chose to save all her questions regarding the different bonds she heard mentioned for Oskar as he was likely to provide her with better answers on the subject than Draco.

Draco thought about Hermione's declaration and acceded that, while he would need to bite her in his wolf form to turn her and have her fully bonded with him, she was correct about the existence of a bond between them. It had started with their very first coupling and had grown stronger over the months as their relationship progressed.

"I don't want to complete the bond till you return. If you're turned now you won't be able to leave. Werewolves are pack creatures; we go mad without a pack. As strong as you are mentally, even you would need time to adjust to living without a pack. It would make you extremely vulnerable to be that unstable while you're on the run."

She nodded not knowing what to say. She'd heard him talk about the pack and their way of living before but there was still so much she needed to learn and understand.

"I'm going to help you escape, but just you. I know you plan to take Ginny Weasley with you, but that witch is going to end up being a noose around your neck. In her current state she'll only be a liability."

Though Draco's words sounded cruel, she understood his intent, even if she didn't agree with him.

"I can't leave her behind. I don't know what'll happen to her if-"

"What'll happen to her? Nothing, for as long as she's here. We'll protect her- we've been tasked to protect her _and_ her child. She's safe with us, but if you take her along she's bound to get both of you caught."

"I have a fix. There's something I've been thinking of doing that may help Ginny... I'm just-"

"Whatever it is you're thinking of doing, do it. Either fix her or leave her behind. I won't help you escape till I can be sure you'll safely make your way back to the Order. Speaking of the Order, I'm going to credit your side with having the basic sense to have relocated to an unknown location and changed all their existing plans and strategies when they got news of your capture?"

She nodded. "It is standard protocol."

"We guessed as much, which is why after a point the interrogations really became more about torturing the prisoners than trying to extract any useful information out of them."

He spoke of such a horrid thing in such a casual manner it reminded Hermione that not long ago he was on the other side. As sobering as the thought was it didn't cause her trust in him to waver.

"Do you have any secure means of re-establishing contact with the Order once you're out?"

She nodded once again.

"Good. You're going to be out there on your own, a fugitive, till you find or they take you to their new location. It's the part that leaves me feeling most apprehensive."

"I'll have the wand you gave me, Draco," she reminded him, snuggling against his chest knowing how much he liked it when she did.

"Yes. Yes, of course," he replied absentmindedly.

"Still, if it'll help put your mind at ease we can increase the duration of our training sessions."

"That would definitely help."

"Or, we can get someone to watch the boys so you can shag me senseless to make up for all the time we won't be together?" she said grinding her crotch against his.

"Witch!" he groaned in response, giving her hair a harsh tug as punishment for her teasing.

"Or maybe you don't have the patience for all that and are ready to simply bend me over that chair and take me till I'm shrieking your name."

"I'm going to bend you over the chair and spank you, you tease."

She laughed and halted her grinding to grab a hold of his face instead. She looked into his eyes and hoped he understood just how much she was going to miss him even if she didn't want to say the words for fear he wouldn't let her go.

Hermione tenderly traced the lines of his pale and pointy face with her hands and watched with fascination as his eyes fluttered shut when she ran her thumb along his lips. He really was beautiful and he was hers, she thought, pressing her lips to his.


	18. Chapter 18

"Hermione wishes to speak with you," Draco informed Oskar on being admitted into his room. "She overheard some of the pack members talking about the twins." Draco then recounted the conversation as relayed to him by Hermione. It turned out Oskar was already aware of the matter discussed; as per usual, Oskar was on top of pack gossip.

"A few came to me for counsel last night," he offered by way of explanation. "Is that all she heard?"

"There may have been some talk about us having bonded- which isn't possible as my wolf hasn't claimed her, yet."

"But the wizard has, presumably." Oskar gave Draco a knowing look. "Considering our keen sense of hearing and smell, she would have needed to maintain a substantial distance to avoid detection. It would require wolf like hearing to eavesdrop at such a distance. I wonder how she came to develop such superior hearing."

Draco ignored Oskar's teasing words and moved on to what he was dying to ask of his sire.

"Lycans! Cora said the pups were normal boys and now I hear they may be lycans. What does this mean, Oskar?" Before Oskar could reply Draco jumped to his feet. "I should get Cora, she probably knows something and she won't lie if you're the one asking."

"Wait, Draco. Settle down."

For the first time in a long time Draco felt his sire command him; his body instinctively responded.

"There's something I need to share with you," he said ominously and waited for Draco to be seated before he continued. "When I told you the story of our creation and extinction, I left out some parts of it. You see wizards alone were not responsible for our predicament. In the beginning there were many Were breeds, each one believing themselves the favourite of the Moon Goddess and wishing that others would concede to their superiority. They upset the harmony in their dual natures when they chose to indulge in their baser instincts. What started as petty jealously and power struggles between the _were _groups eventually led to prolonged wars that wiped out entire breeds. Saddened by the acts of her children Luna turned her back on us.

"Between the constant warring among the _weres_ and the attacks from their natural enemies all other breeds, except for werewolves, died out over time. Possessing innate strength, stealth, intelligence and magic, the werewolves were able to adapt and survive, till they came in contact with wizardkind.

"The ancient ones underestimated their enemy; it was already too late when the true purpose of the wizards' curses became apparent to them. Unable to bear children and hunted by wizards, they faced certain extinction. The Elders gathered together and cried out in distress to Luna, who either out of an abiding love for her creation or mercy at our plight made us a promise. She said if we embraced our dual natures and coupled with our true mate under the light of the full moon she would give us children who although from us, would be unlike us. Born free from our affliction, our children would escape persecution as they would be born either entirely wizard or entirely wolf."

"Okay, so you didn't mention a detail or two, but I believe I'm familiar with this tale for the most part. Besides, this doesn't address any of my quest-"

"Patience, my child. I'm getting to it. And you need to pay close attention as it is very relevant to the answers you seek."

Draco nodded in acknowledgement, giving Oskar his full attention.

"The Fates had dealt us a lethal blow but Luna reassured the Elders she would intervene on our behalf and made another promise. Her promise- a prophecy, once well known to all werewolves- now only remembered by the Elders.

"_Born from false love, a false god bearing false promises shall emerge ushering in an age of turmoil filled with suffering for both wizards and weres. A descendant of the ones who first cursed us will unknowingly deliver the Goddess' blessings to us._

"_A fated pair of unlikely lovers - a woman with great magic, yet despised by her kind, and a powerful were, damned by those who once revered him; joined by force, their union shall bear the fruit that carries the Moon Goddess' blessing to save our kind. Their issue, born free from **the curse**, shall possess a body and soul with the harmony in their dual natures restored._"

Draco accioed a self inking quill and a piece of parchment lying on the table; he made Oskar repeat the words so he could write them down and study them properly.

"This part sounds a lot like the Dark Lord, doesn't it?" asked Draco when he finished writing the first half. "He's got people believing he's some kind of god who's defeated death when he is in fact still a mortal. Plus for all his talk of blood purity and ethnic cleansing he is most likely a Halfblood. The Order published something a while back claiming his mother used Amortentia to make his Muggle father fall in love with her. Of course, it was immediately refuted as nothing but lies being spread to turn public support against the Dark Lord and his agenda, but I always suspected it to be true. It didn't feel like the Order's style to publish slander and it especially didn't make sense for them to risk their lives the way they did only to publish outright lies... So, the Dark Lord's going to help restore our heritage?"

"It's funny how people can wait for ages for something to happen and not even realise when it does."

"What do you mean?"

"Note the second half," advised Oskar before repeating the rest of the prophecy.

Draco read and re-read the lines to himself before looking up at Oskar.

"I still don't see how any of this relates to my question about the twins?"

"...Because the prophecy is about the twins, Draco. The blessing we have long awaited was delivered to us the day they were born." Oskar's eyes appeared shiny as he made the declaration.

"I still don't understand," Draco replied continuing to stare at Oskar in confusion.

"Luna has blessed your sons, Draco. They won't suffer from lycanthropy the way we have. They are Lycans," he stated with awe, "blessed with the ability to shift at will, _and_ have children, same as every other species."

"You think the prophecy is about **my** sons?!" Draco was glad he was sitting as Oskar's words finally began to penetrate the fog surrounding his mind.

"_Mudblood_, that's the derogatory term the wizards call her despite her abilities, right? And you... practically a Pureblood prince till you were damned to the existence of a werewolf by your own people. The two of you are mates but you would most likely never have gotten together if not for the actions of your Dark Lord... I've tried to remind the pack time and time again, we are creatures of fate. Children will only be born to true mates as promised by Luna. And if the Dark one is successful in his experiments, he won't be creating anything new, only restoring our heritage."

Draco nearly laughed out loud at the irony behind the Dark Lord fulfilling one prophecy while trying to escape the fulfilment of another. But there was another thought niggling at his mind as he pondered the words of the prophecy.

_...the fruit that carries the Moon Goddess' blessing to save our kind._

While Oskar's explanation was reassuring, Draco believed it did not bode well for his sons to be the subject of a prophecy, if Potter's life was anything to go by.

"I'm assuming this is a translation" -Draco tapped the words on the sheet, he waited for a nod from Oskar to continue- "so, there could be an alternative interpretation?"

"The Elder, who was my sire and my teacher, informed me that while the translation lacks the poetry of the original it is entirely accurate in its message."

"Okay. So how are the twins meant to save our kind?"

For the first time, in all the time he had known his sire, Oskar appeared uncertain about what he had to say. "I'm not sure... Your sons are Lycans, of that we can be certain, and they are the key to the salvation of our people. How? I don't know. There was never any consensus on the outcome. Some, like me, took the words to mean that the fated pair will produce children who will start a new line of werewolves possessing the abilities of the ancient ones. Other Elders insisted that the birth of the prophesised children would destroy the curse, freeing all of us from its effects. While still others argued the children would possess secret knowledge of how the curse could be destroyed so every werewolf came to possess the same abilities as them. I realise my words must not inspire much confidence at the moment, but bear in mind it's been well over twenty years since I last spoke with another Elder, and back then neither one of us expected to live long enough to see the prophecy fulfilled."

Draco raised a brow and shook his head. "I think you should share this with Hermione. She's good with research; she's also got some experience when it comes to decoding prophecies. But, more importantly, she'll want to know since it concerns our sons."

He tapped the parchment and made a copy for Hermione, rolled up both sheets, handing one to Oskar and tucking the second into his robes so he could read it again later.

"Draco, before you came here, I planned to come speak with you. Our guests have been acting rather suspiciously today- something has happened."

"Yes, Gunnolf shared the same concern. The Dark Lord's angry about something- my mark began to burn earlier today for the first time in a really long time." Draco rubbed his forearm still experiencing the phantom sensation of the burn.

"They're scared and being unusually tight-lipped about it. It's making me uneasy."

Oskar had his network of spies within the pack who kept him abreast of the goings on within the castle be it the werewolves, the Death Eaters or the Black Cloaks. He may have retired from his position as alpha but his old habits remained.

"Well then, perhaps we need to employ a more direct approach to shaking the information out of them," said Draco with a smirk. "I think I'll take Gunnolf along to make it look more official," he thought out loud in a cheery tone. "Meanwhile, will you go speak with Hermione? Tell her what you've told me, answer her questions. Please?"

Oskar agreed to Draco's request. Knowing what he did about the pack's concerns, he was certain Hermione had more questions for him than she'd let on.

* * *

After his talk with Oskar, Draco was even more determined to discover what was going on with the Dark Lord's followers. Though the Death Eaters were gone the Black Cloaks, who weren't considered nearly important enough to be included in the Dark Lord's gatherings, would still be around and likely to spill the beans given the right motivation.

Draco met with Gunnolf and together they headed towards the North-East section of the castle keep. It was well known that the series of balconies in that part of the castle was favoured by both, the Death Eaters as well as the Black Cloaks. The place was easy to access from the dungeons and offered a stunning view of the land but the main attraction of the place for the bigots was its distance from the areas commonly occupied by the werewolves.

As Draco and Gunnolf spoke to one Black Cloak after another, pressing them for information on what they knew, Draco was filled with a growing sense of foreboding. It was time for some drastic measures if he wanted to stay ahead of the problem.

* * *

"I hear congratulations are in order." At the look of confusion from Hermione, Oskar explained. "Well, it was my conclusion that the only way for you to have suddenly developed wolf like hearing was if you were bitten by a werewolf. And it's hardly a mystery who that werewolf might possibly be. What remains a mystery is why you two haven't completed the bond."

"The bond, no, all the different bonds- it's what I wanted to talk to you about. I don't really understand what you mean when you and the rest of the werewolves talk about all these bonds."

"You didn't mention this to Draco." It wasn't a question.

She shook her head, "I thought you would be able to shed more light on the subject as you were an alpha once," explained Hermione, and then proceeded to share with Oskar the parts of the overheard conversation she withheld from Draco. "They were panicking in a way that made it clear there was something odd about the bonds where I was concerned," she said in conclusion.

"Pack bonds are usually formed when you accept the alpha of the pack as your alpha- the alpha bond precedes the pack bond. But, you can also form a pack bond through a mate bond. This happens when your mate belongs to a different pack and you already have an alpha. In such cases you end up bonding with your mate's pack as well, though this bond is far weaker. The thing to keep in mind is that the alpha is the pack and there is no pack without the alpha. Whether you choose to accept the alpha bond or not, you cannot bond with a pack or any member of the pack without its alpha becoming aware of the existence of that bond- you can bond with an alpha without your mate knowing about it, but not the other way around."

"So Fenrir knows about me and Draco?"

"It's possible, but my experience with Fenrir makes it difficult for me to imagine he knows and hasn't punished Draco for attempting to bond with you. A situation like this is unusual. It's almost as if the pack has bonded with another alpha."

Hermione opened her mouth more than once looking like she was going to speak but didn't say anything. It was clear to Oskar she was struggling to articulate whatever was on her mind. A few more seconds of confusion passed before she finally appeared to settle on a question.

"Is Draco an alpha?"

Oskar looked at her curiously. "Why would you ask that?"

"I'll confess that before Bleidd my knowledge of werewolves was limited to information found in wizarding texts. I now know a great deal more thanks to Draco and Cora, but there's still a lot I don't know. Excuse me if I'm mistaken, but, it is my understanding that pack members cannot transform at will. Only an alpha is capable of transformation without the full moon."

"Have you seen Draco transform?"

"Yes. No. I mean, not completely. I'm not sure."

"What did you see?"

"I've seen his eyes change, it was brief but his eyes went from their usual grey to amber. And I've felt him sprout fur, again very briefly... Even when he bit me, his teeth didn't feel like human teeth."

"Is there any chance you could be mistaken about these things?" Oskar wasn't being dismissive even if his question came across as such.

"The instances I mentioned were so brief, there is a possibility I could be mistaken, but I do have one distinct memory of a time when I'm certain he was transformed." She hesitated, mortified over the prospect of having to share intimate details with a man old enough to be her great-grandfather.

"My memory of the first few days of captivity is foggy, especially the first day. The potion the Death Eaters fed me was either too strong for me or I was given something else that affected my memory, I don't recall the specifics of what happened to me the first night, however, I do know there was a full moon out that night. Yet, I remember being, ah, _visited_ again by Draco's wolf the following night. And I know he was in his wolf form because you see we were... erm... _locked_ together for a really long time and I could feel his fur and his claws as he, well, you know..." Hermione trailed off in embarrassment.

Oskar looked pensive as he pondered over the information she provided. "Sounds like you have good reason to think he's an alpha. Since he was sired by me I knew Draco would be very powerful, but I'm so old and weak now and it's been so long since I was an alpha, I didn't consider the possibility of those abilities passing on. Have you discussed this with Draco?"

She shook her head. "I doubt he's even aware it's happening when it does. I asked him about it indirectly once. He was telling me about the pack and something about transformations. I asked him if there was ever anyone who managed to transform into their wolf in the absence of a full moon. He said, as alpha only Fenrir was able to perform such a feat..."

Hermione went quiet as if considering something. "Oskar, is it possible I've accepted Draco as my alpha?"

"If, as you say, Draco is displaying signs of being an alpha, it is possible though it's not something I considered before. I have my own theory on what is going on." Oskar looked as if he were scrutinising the woman before him. "Tell me, Hermione, what do you know of your own heritage?"

"Mine?" asked Hermione. Being one of the most hunted _Mudbloods_ her heritage was so well known the question amused her greatly, nevertheless, she provided him with an earnest response. "I'm Muggleborn, only Muggles on both sides of my family. In school there were some who insisted I must have a squib ancestor but I've found nothing in my ancestry to support such a theory."

"Then either your research was incomplete, or you were misinformed. You can be sure you had ancestors who were **not** Muggles."

The flabbergasted expression she sported made him soften his tone.

"I hear you're like Cora, don't put much stock in the science of divination. Still, may I share with you a lesser known prophecy concerning our kind?"

The non sequitur furthering her state of bewilderment, Hermione replied with a hesitant, "Okay?"

"Long after we were cursed to our current state by the wizards, there existed a werewolf renowned for her ability to divine the future as written in the stars. She foretold of the arrival of a Promised One, an Alpha of incomparable power who would become the Alpha of all alphas. The actions of those who followed the false god would awaken a formidable beast with unrivalled authority who would be a catalyst in the creation of a powerful alliance which would rid the world of a great scourge, ushering in a time of peace and cooperation between the Beings of the world."

Hermione remained silent for some time but when it looked like he wasn't going to offer any explanation she spoke. "What does that have to do with-" she began, but stopped abruptly to stare at Oskar in shock as she caught on to what he was trying to tell her. "You can't possibly think that's me."

"No? Why not?"

"Does any of this sound like me- alpha of alphas, _formidable beast_! I'm not even a _were_-" Hermione stopped herself as another piece of the puzzle slid into place. She gasped. "You think _I'm_ the other alpha, don't you? You think the reason Greyback hasn't sensed my bond with Draco or other members of the pack is because you think I am an alpha?"

"Correct," remarked Oskar, looking impressed at how quickly she had put it together. "I have a justifiable reason for my belief. Do you recall the time I visited you before the pups were born? When I laid my hands on you my wolf trembled. I've lived a long life, Hermione... been in countless fights over the years, yet my wolf has never backed down or submitted to anyone. The one and only time I yielded, it was as a symbolic gesture to my successor when I stepped down as alpha. But that time I touched you- for the first time I felt my wolf cower in fear."

"Why has Draco never mentioned it then?"

"I doubt he realises it. As your mate, the extent of your power would inspire pride not fear in his wolf. Now before you ask me any other questions, may I interrupt to ask you a few of my own?"

Hermione politely agreed. "What would you like to know?"

"Why have you not completely bonded with Draco as yet? You two clearly care for each other, so why the delay? I know Draco protects you a great deal so you may not know how bad things could be, but surely you're aware of what the alternative is for you here?"

Oskar's tone was gentle enough that despite the bluntness of his words Hermione didn't bristle at the question. She was still thinking of how to answer him without giving away her plan to escape when her thoughts were interrupted by a loud sigh.

"You still plan to escape then." Oskar looked past Hermione at the twins asleep on the bed.

Hermione remained silent unwilling to confirm or deny Oskar's statement.

"Here," he said, giving her the parchment handed to him by Draco.

"What's this?" she asked even as her eyes quickly scanned the text before her.

"Well, it is a prophecy about your sons."

Once more Hermione stared at Oskar in disbelief before re-reading the words on the parchment.

"Has Draco ever told you about any of our legends?"

She nodded. "Just a little something about how werewolves were first created and then cursed by wizards so they lost the ability to reproduce."

"Close enough. This prophecy talks about the people and events that lead to the breaking of the curse so werewolves can once again possess the abilities of the mythical Lycans." For a second time that evening Oskar spoke about their legends and why he believed the prophecy was about Hermione, Draco and their children.

Hermione reflected on Oskar's words within the context of the prophecy she held in her hands.

"_A descendant of the ones who first cursed us will unknowingly deliver the Goddess' blessings to us. _The false god, Tom Riddle will deliver the blessing. After listening to your account I first thought that the blessing refers to the boys, since werewolves consider children a blessing from Luna, but that doesn't fit with this line, _their union shall bear the fruit **that carries** the Moon Goddess' blessing to save our kind_, where the children are referred to as the fruit and the blessing is something they carry..." She twisted at the waist to look at the boys asleep behind her. "They carry the cure?" she whispered feeling awestruck at the realisation. She looked at Oskar. "In what way do they carry the cure? How are they meant to save-"

Hermione was interrupted by Draco bursting into the room. Noticing Oskar's presence he adjusted his posture to appear more relaxed.

"Oskar, can you please take the twins and return to pack quarters? There's an urgent matter I need to discuss with Hermione in private."

Regardless of the calm facade Draco was attempting to project, Oskar sensed Draco's concern for his family as he carefully moved the twins from the bed to the bassinet. Without asking any questions Oskar took the precious cargo from Draco's hands and left the room, but not before giving Draco a look that said he expected a full explanation later.

The door was barely closed behind Oskar when Draco turned to Hermione and blurted, "It's time for you to go."

Hermione was startled at the abruptness of Draco's words. "What do you mean? What's happened?"

"The reason _he's_ angry- no, raging mad- is because he discovered that Potter stole something very precious to him and destroyed it. I think we can safely assume what the object must be for him to be furious enough to summon all his Death Eaters. I doubt the Dark Lord cares particularly for jewellery in and of itself."

"...Jewellery? Do you know what it was?"

"The Black Cloaks I spoke with mentioned a locket. Now, the only other time I've known of the Dark Lord foaming at the mouth over a piece of lost jewellery was when it had contained a piece of his own debauched soul; I'm assuming this piece shares a similar distinction."

"Slytherin's locket, it's Slytherin's locket! They did it," she declared excitedly, bouncing up and down in place while simultaneously tearing up. "By Godric, they finally did it."

"Just two more to go then, right?"

She nodded enthusiastically then flung herself at Draco, arms thrown around his neck in a fierce hold as she pulled his face down, in level with her own, and peppered it with kisses.

As much as Draco was enjoying the feel of her body pressed against him as well as the joy radiating from her they didn't have time for such things, not anymore. With great regret he pulled her arms away from him.

"You and Ginny are the only prisoners we have that are related to Potter or the Order in any way. You need to get away before that noseless bastard comes for you. Do you have my wand on you?"

In response, Hermione tapped at her arm to show where the wand remained hidden from sight.

"Good. Give me a twenty minute head start then make your way towards the castle bailey. Do you know the southern corridor that leads to the kitchens?" Hermione nodded. Draco proceeded to give her directions to a secret passage- whose existence was known to only a handful of them- that led to the stables outside the castle. "I've taken down the protection wards so a simple Alohomora should reveal the hidden doorway. Inside, you'll find a parcel with some essentials I've left for you- robes, potions, food and a portkey.

"Once out, be prepared to cast a Silencio at the horses in the adjoining stalls. Some of them possess a nervous disposition so you're likely to startle them when you exit the hidden passage. The portkey point is south of the stables. It's the best spot to cross the magical barrier without raising an alarm- they'll assume it's just one of the Dark Lord's followers leaving. I'll steer pack members clear of that part of the castle grounds, but I have no control on the movements of the rest. Any loud noise is likely to attract attention and make them want to investigate.

"Head south of the stable- towards a cluster of tall English Oak trees. Keep going south well beyond the trees. Listen for the sound of the stream. Move towards the sound till you see the shimmer of the magical barrier. Upon crossing, don't apparate immediately- our trackers can follow the trace of your magic. Walk towards the stream till you see a stone slab resembling an altar- it's the portkey point.

"The portkey I've left you belonged to a Death Eater. Ever since they started monitoring portkey travel I began _collecting _official portkeys issued to careless Death Eaters who don't even realise it when their stuff goes missing- I've quite a collection now. Your portkey will take you to a busy town in Dover with scant Death Eater presence. Once there you can safely apparate to a destination of your choice without fear of being tracked."

"Ginny," Hermione cried out soon as Draco was done making her repeat his instructions back to him. "I can't leave her behind," she firmly stated then rushed out of her quarters without waiting for a response.

"Gods damn it, Granger!" Draco cried in frustration upon seeing her sprint out of the room. As much as he wanted to run after her, he didn't. Watching her run off messed with his own instincts, that were demanding he chase her down and make her submit so she would never think of leaving him. He could just see it now- him pushing her down on all fours and fucking her right there in the corridor till he emptied the contents of his balls into her. Fuck, the very thought of it excited him but he couldn't put her at risk by causing any delays.

Draco waited for a few minutes to calm himself before going after Hermione. He was barely out the door when an out of breath omega came to a halt before him.

"Message from the beta, sir."

As head beta, most of the omegas simply referred to Gunnolf as 'the beta' out of respect for his position.

"Yes, go on Lou."

"There was a floo call, sir. The alpha's returning with some company. The beta said you should wrap up your business quickly and be there when the alpha arrives as he was asking for you."

Draco thanked the omega for the message and went after Hermione. When he caught up to her he found her standing a few feet away from Ginny's bed looking uncertain. Ginny, who lay on the bed with her back turned to them, appeared to be asleep.

"That witch is going to get you captured or killed," he declared forcefully.

"No," said Hermione with a vigorous shake of her head, "I'm going to fix her first. I'm going to obliviate her. It'll be safe to take her with me if she doesn't remember anything that's happened."

Her statement gave Draco pause. Memory charms were tricky, it didn't matter how good you were with them there was always a potential for things to go horribly wrong. In general memory charms were avoided unless one cared more about protecting one's secrets than worrying about the prospect of causing permanent brain damage to the person one was casting the spell on. Regardless of the challenges with execution, they were undoubtedly effective. If Ginny Weasley was obliviated of her traumatic memories she wouldn't be a liability to Hermione. Begrudgingly, he nodded in agreement.

"Okay. What do you need from me?"

"Nothing. Just, let me do this by myself... How long before we leave?" she asked, her eyes still locked on Ginny.

"I'll need twenty minutes to clear the way for you."

"I'd like to say goodbye to the boys."

"I'm sorry, we don't have time."

She spun around and pleaded with her eyes, but he offered no consolation. Hermione closed her eyes and let out a shaky breath before nodding. She understood.

"Fenrir is headed back so don't take more than twenty minutes for whatever you plan to do with her," he said pointing to Ginny's sleeping form. "If it takes longer or anything goes wrong, just leave. I promise we'll take care of her."

"Where will I see you?"

"I'll have to keep the others occupied." He swallowed the lump in his throat, finding it too hard to tell her this was goodbye. She appeared to be similarly affected. Her mouth was a tight line and her eyes watery before she nodded again.

"Once you're safely back with the Order, send an owl addressed to Gunnolf Olsen. Our mail isn't monitored but don't risk your safety by writing anything that will give you away as the sender. Make it an order confirmation letter for a batch of cauldrons- I'll know it's you and that you're okay."

He looked at her, for what could be the last time for a very long time, drinking in his fill of her while she did the same. From the way her hands twitched at her sides she was clearly fighting the urge to touch him just as he was resisting her.

"I will come back to you," Hermione promised, her voice laced with steely determination.

Draco found it hard to say anything so he nodded and turned around. If he didn't leave now he was very likely to grab her and never let go.

"Twenty minutes, then you need to make a run for it," he called out as he walked away. "The Death Eaters could be arriving at any minute now."

...

Hermione stared at the spot Draco had stood in long after he was gone. She didn't think it would hurt so much to watch him walk away, but it did. It was bad enough she was leaving them behind, but not even getting to say goodbye to her sons and to Draco... A vice tightened around her heart, slowly crushing it. She rubbed at her chest in an attempt to ease the pain and took several deep breaths. Now was not the time to lose her composure and turn into a blubbering mess.

She walked up to Ginny pulling her wand out of its holster and positioning the tip against Ginny temple. She closed her eyes in preparation and was about to say the spell when the wand was jerked out of her hand followed by a hard shove that had her stumbling backwards.

"I can't believe you were going to obliviate me!" Ginny's expression was a mix of hurt, disgust and fury as she stepped off the bed with the wand pointed threateningly at Hermione. "You'll go to such lengths to please your Death Eater lover, even betraying your own side? Well, let's see how you like it when the tables are turned."

There was no time to move out of the way or even think as Ginny cast an angry Stupefy. Hermione instinctively raised her hands hoping to cast a wandless Protego but failed. It proved to be unnecessary anyhow as the spell backfired on Ginny, the wand forcefully surging out of her hands and into Hermione's while her body was flung back where it crashed against the wall with a sickening sound before landing as a crumpled heap on the floor. Her body appeared lifeless lying on the ground. There was now a rapidly growing spot of blood under her, indicating injuries that could lead to her dying from blood loss if left unattended for too long.

Hermione began casting every diagnostic spell she could think of, followed by every healing spell she knew in an attempt to heal whatever was broken, but couldn't get the bleeding to stop. Afraid that her friend would end up dead before her eyes, Hermione cast a patronus informing Cora of the accident and begging her to save Ginny.

There was no way she could take Ginny with her now, and it would help no one to stick around when she finally had a chance to escape. Hermione holstered her wand and ran out of the room. She was running against the clock as the Death Eaters and werewolves would be alerted once they saw her patronus dashing about the castle. As quietly and as quickly as possible she ran down the corridor and down the stairs. Left, right, down another flight of stairs and another corridor. A few more turns and corridors before she made her way to the portrait concealing the secret passage. Inside, she found the satchel containing the items Draco left her. As instructed, she quickly changed into a set of dirty robes; the scent from the robes, which had belonged to some Black Cloak, was meant to mask Hermione's from the trackers.

Using her new wand to light her path, Hermione ran left, right, right, right, left; keeping an eye for the symbols that marked the correct way, she was able to avoid the pitfalls and dead-ends to follow the serpentine path all the way to the exit. It was exhausting and took her far longer than any of the known exits would have, but it was the safest option, and as Draco had predicted, she didn't run into anyone along the way.

Unnerved by what happened to Ginny and in her rush to escape, she forgot about the horses. She gave them a fright when she burst out of the stall. Rather than wasting precious seconds to stop and deal with the noisy creatures, she kept running. Her leg muscles had started to burn, but she kept running till she was past the magical barrier.

Hermione gave out a cry of relief as the stone slab marking the portkey point finally came into view. Her fingers barely grazed the portkey in the satchel she held when something large slammed into her and knocked her to the ground, also knocking the wind out of her in the process.

Lying on the ground, dazed, exhausted and breathless, Hermione looked up. A large figure loomed over her, blocking her view of everything else. As the figure drew nearer, the features appeared in focus. She was staring into the smiling face of Fenrir Greyback. He grabbed her hand, placed it on an object in his hand and muttered something under his breath. She had no time to register what was happening when she was overwhelmed by the nauseating sensation in her gut which signalled she was being portkeyed away.


	19. Chapter 19

AN: Trigger Warnings are there for a reason. If you do not like dark fics this would be a good place to stop reading (this way you can leave on a high note). If you do choose to continue reading, I can offer you the following (spoiler) as consolation- this fic will have a Dramione HEA.

* * *

**Chapter 19**

Draco quickly checked the roster to see who were assigned duties near the stable and portkey point. Rather than arousing suspicion by clearing all the _weres_ in the area, he planned to keep anyone capable of posing a risk to Hermione out of her path and under his watchful eye within the main castle. The potential threats once identified, were recalled on the pretext of an impromptu training session in the main castle building; with the amount of pent up energy _weres_ carried around, it wasn't unusual for more senior betas to call for a training or sparring session when the mood so struck them. As replacements in their respective duties, Draco sent the pack's weakest omegas. He was quite likely endangering their lives by setting them so close to Hermione's escape path but his wolf wasn't particularly bothered by what would be seen as putting his mate before his pack. Beyond defending herself, he was confident his witch would not seek to cause permanent or irreversible damage to any pack member, yet the same could not be said of some of the pack members, should they end up duelling her.

Draco stood in the front hall of the main castle; one of the doors opened into a small yard that served as an indoor training ground. Slowly, the pack members handpicked for today's training session began to filter in, cheering and gesturing in a manner that showed their excitement at the prospect of sparring with him. With the full moon only a few days away, they were all a little on edge.

Warm-up drills completed, they were starting to pair up for the fights when they were interrupted.

"So the rumours are true I see."

Draco turned to look in the direction of the voice. To his surprise, standing there was his old friend Theodore Nott. No, not friend exactly, he corrected. As a wealthy Pureblood elite of the same age and of an equal status as himself, Theo had been a suitable companion. Still, there were times he had thought of Theo as a friend.

Theo used to be a carefree and chatty kid, back before his mother had mysteriously ended up dead. He changed dramatically afterwards, becoming more reserved in his speech and more observant of his surroundings. It made him an excellent judge of character, and because he possessed such an even temperament, Theo's was often the only voice of reason in Draco's life during their years at Hogwarts. Then Draco took the Dark Mark and their relationship was forever altered. For a long time Draco believed jealousy to be the source of their fallout—that Theo had desired the enviable distinction of being the youngest Death Eater. However, seeing him now—the first time in all the years since he was turned—made him wonder if perhaps he had been wrong about Theo too.

"Theo," Draco acknowledged with a nod, "it's been a while."

"Yes, it has, hasn't it?" asked Theo, studying Draco. "I heard you were at Wolf Castle and that you'd taken quite well to your new _status_"—his tone suggested he was trying not to cause offence—"but I didn't believe it ... You've changed," he said upon concluding his scrutiny of Draco.

Having grown up together, Draco thought he could read Theo better than anyone else could. He could be mistaken, but despite the flat tone of his voice, Theo appeared to look at him with admiration.

Draco dusted himself off and put on his robes before joining Theo outside, in the front hall. "So, what brings you to Wolf Castle, Theo?" Draco feigned ignorance even though he suspected they were here for Hermione.

"Why do any of us come here?" Theo gave a light shrug. It was well known that the Death Eaters did not like interacting with the werewolves and only came to Bleidd when commanded by the Dark Lord. "The Dark Lord probably didn't think that dimwit Greyback could manage a simple game of fetch. I've been tasked with escorting two of the prisoners back to headquarters."

Ironically, the Ministry was what the Death Eaters used as their headquarters these days.

"And which prisoners would that be?" asked Draco nonchalantly.

"Potter's girlfriend and his Mudblood—" Theo paused to stare at him. "Oh, but now they both mean something to you too," he said, as if he only just realised it, "one of them is carrying the Malfoy heir while the other is carrying your spawn."

Theo was deliberately goading him, to gain some insight into his feelings most likely. Draco did not care for these types of games anymore.

He motioned for Theo to follow and began to walk away, towards Ginny's room. Hermione would be long gone by now, but he wanted to delay the discovery for as long as possible. On his way, Draco wondered about the whereabouts of Fenrir, who must have arrived with Theo's party and then abandoned them at some point. The alpha did not usually show deference to the Death Eaters but since Theo was there on orders from the Dark Lord himself, it was strange Fenrir had not even bothered to assign a beta to guide them around Bleidd.

"How did you enjoy your roll in the mud, Draco? Can't imagine it was any good. Granger was always such a frail little thing—far too much brains, not enough tits."

Theo wasn't even being subtle now. His wolf bristled at the comments about his mate, but Draco still refused to react. He knew how to deal with Theo.

"You've changed," he said, echoing Theo's line from earlier, "You were never the type to notice tits before."

"I don't _like_ tits, doesn't mean I don't notice them. And as I recall you used to be rather fond of Pansy for the sake of her tits alone."

He could expect this kind of talk from Blaise but it was strange coming from Theo. What did Theo hope to gain from provoking a reaction out of him?

"Does all this talk of tits mean you've taken a wife now?" he shifted the focus to Theo while he tried to figure out Theo's endgame. "I heard the Dark Lord passed some kind of decree requiring all Purebloods of fertile years to marry and breed."

Theo let out a chortle. "One of the benefits of my station is that some amount of consideration was offered for my _proclivities_, giving me a reprieve from that law—not like there are enough Pureblood women to go around anyway. Naturally, since I'm unable to provide an heir, the duty has fallen to father's broad and far more capable shoulders." There was that familiar old bitterness that always crept into Theo's voice anytime he spoke about his father. "Hmm, even in your state of disgrace we have something in common. A disappointment to our respective families, it has fallen to our fathers to produce the requisite heirs."

Theosophus Nott was a cold and hard man in a way that made Lucius Malfoy look like a Hufflepuff in contrast. While never confirmed, they suspected he was responsible for the death of his wife, who he most likely killed before Theo's eyes. Draco could not imagine any Pureblood woman, familiar with the Nott family history, willing to marry the old Death Eater despite his wealth and power.

"Lord Nott has been given a slave as well?"

Theo chuckled, though Draco failed to see the source of his amusement.

"No. He's been given a proper wife. Unlike Lucius, my father is, well _was_ single."

Nott Senior did not strike him as a man willing to ever take on the hassle of a wife again. Draco always assumed that one day he would force Theo to bed a woman to ensure the continuation of the Nott family line.

"Who's the lucky woman?"

"This is the part which is so amusing. Not amusing because she's married to father, but amusing because it makes her my step-mother."

Draco kept walking, tilting his head to raise a questioning eyebrow at Theo.

"Pansy," replied Theo.

"Pansy?"

"Yes. With you out of the picture, the only wizard Lord Parkinson could deem suitable enough for his little princess was my father."

"Fuck!" Draco exclaimed loudly. He may not have shared Pansy's feelings—in fact he had acted like a proper heel when he took advantage of her feelings to engage in some snogging and lusty groping while they were at school—and even though he was still angry with her for raising her hand on Hermione, as one of his oldest friends, he still cared for Pansy. He could not imagine how creepy it must be for her to be married to Theo's father knowing what they knew about the man.

"Why did she agree? I mean, how did Lord Parkinson even convince her to agree?" While Pansy could be a little vacuous, she was also incredibly stubborn and well versed in manipulating her father into doing her bidding.

"It's not like she was given a choice in the matter, Draco. One thing that is pretty consistent in this brave new world is that none of us really have a choice in what we do anymore."

Theo's voice had taken on that quiet reflective tone of the boy he remembered from his Hogwarts days. Here was a man speaking the plain and unvarnished truth. Coming from anyone else, Draco would call this a slip-up, but from someone as intelligent and guarded as Theo, it had to mean something. There was a weariness in his old friend's eyes he had missed earlier. Was Theo also feeling overwhelmed by the reality of the world they had helped create?

More than halfway to Ginny Weasley's quarters, Draco stopped two pack members rushing past him.

"Selene, Adrian, slow down," he ordered. "What's happened?"

"Message for the Beta, sir. We have one prisoner missing and the other's been severely injured, sir."

Draco tried to appear calm while struggling to breathe at the news that his mate could be hurt.

"Has Cora been informed?"

"Yes, sir. She's tending to the prisoner. We were told to inform the Beta the prisoner's lost a lot of blood and looks like she'll die if—"

At this point Draco gave up all pretence and cut off the omega.

"Where, where is she?" he demanded and took off in the direction they pointed, without offering any explanation to a baffled-looking Theo.

He was running so fast his heart was going to burst out of his chest at any moment now. _Gods damn it! She wasn't supposed to get hurt._ He asked her to go without Ginny Weasley, but she did not listen and now it looked like the witch had hurt Hermione and left her behind.

When he arrived at the scene, he was shocked to see a pool of, what he thought was, his mate's blood and Cora bent over a small female form. His vision grew blurry from the tears flowing down his cheeks, his grief so great he failed to notice the absence of his mate's scent.

Completely focused on her task, Cora worked frantically, waving her wand, muttering one incantation after another while she clumsily grabbed at the different potion bottles, struggling to uncork them efficiently and pour them in the correct order down the witch's throat. A trained healer, Cora had been out of practice for so long she was no better than a mediwitch in this situation.

It took Draco several moments to gather the courage to approach them. He fell to his knees in sheer relief upon seeing it was not his mate lying half-dead on the ground.

"Merlin!" he moaned aloud. _She escaped._ If Ginny was here, it meant Hermione was the one to escape. It was the only thing that mattered, as far as he was concerned.

"Get off your arse and lend me a hand here," Cora barked when he continued to stay on his knees and uselessly stare at them.

Draco moved quickly, following directions and assisting Cora as needed. At times, he joined her in casting spells; at others, he prepared the necessary potions. Even though he was doing little more than measuring and mixing different items in the combinations Cora demanded, working with potions after so many years managed to calm him despite the grisly scene around them.

Theo and a few of the Death Eaters had gathered outside the room. They were shortly joined by some members of the pack. No one entered the room or disturbed them in any way, apart from handing Draco the additional items requested by Cora.

Bits and pieces of the conversation, taking place in the corridor outside, drifted into the room. Muffled by the walls, it was hard to identify the voices with certainty.

"We saw a patronus floating past us," said one of the voices.

"Scared the living daylight out of me, some weird-looking animal," said another voice.

"We figured it was one of the two Order members. Not like there's anyone else here who can do that kind of magic."

"Serafina thought to check on Hermione first because..." the voice trailed off.

A bolder sounding voice said, "Well, the other witch's really of no concern to us is she?"

"What did you find?" There was no mistaking the authority in the voice. Gunnolf.

"Hermione wasn't in her chambers, but that's not unusual—"

"She likes to spend time outside with either the pups or Draco."

"—so we decided to check on the redhead—"

"That one's _always _in her room."

"—and we found her lying there, like that, in the middle of this pool of blood."

"Made me so hungry. I've never been around human blood like that."

"Cora got here almost the same time we did—"

"Not sure who called her."

"—Serafina said we ought to split up—"

"Selene and Adrian went to get you while Serafina and I went to look for Hermione."

"We checked the courtyard—"

"Hermione seems to favour that spot."

"—and the rest of the places she visits. Couldn't find her anywhere. We even went to pack quarters—"

"Though she's never stepped foot in there, far as I know."

"We thought to check on the twins."

"Found them with Oskar."

"...but, no sign of Hermione."

"Any idea on the whereabouts of the alpha?" asked Gunnolf.

"He arrived with the Death Eaters, sir."

The conversation continued in faint whispers before stopping altogether. Minutes later, voices could be heard again, but from the other end of the corridor.

"Greyback? Yes, we arrived together by portkey"—that condescending tone and posh accent could only belong to Theo—"but on our way past the stables he suddenly took off, no explanation given. He hasn't returned so far, Draco's busy patching up one of the prisoners I was meant to collect, and I'm growing tired of waiting for someone to explain what's going on."

"That is exactly what we're trying to figure out. Please wait till the healer is done, we may have some answers then." Gunnolf employed an authoritative tone that brooked no argument.

"...I beg your pardon, sir, but I believe I have something to report," said someone in a small and shaky voice. "I was sent to patrol the barrier near the portkey point this evening, sir ... I saw the alpha arrive with the Death Eaters but he came back a short while later ... alone. He told me to return to the castle. He said—he said to tell you we'd be going Mmmud-blood hunting tonight ... I'm sorry for the delay, sir ... It took me some time to find you."

"Interesting ... Does this mean you're missing a prisoner?" asked Theo.

"Hermione isn't a prisoner!" one of the voices declared, followed by shushing sounds.

"Why don't you wait in my office? Enjoy what little hospitality we have to offer, till we have some definite answers for you. Hermione's most likely spending time in pack quarters with her sons. If she is one of the prisoners you seek, I will have my men go and collect her for you."

Draco was surprised Gunnolf had managed to lie so easily and from the sound of footsteps moving away, he may have fooled Theo.

Ginny's condition appeared more stable now, the bleeding had finally stopped and her heart was beating normally. Cora could finally catch a breath so Draco used the opportunity to ask her what happened.

"Hermione, she did this," Cora hissed. "She sent me a patronus saying there was an accident while they were duelling. Hermione was crying, she said she didn't mean to do it, but Ginny was bleeding to death in her room. She begged me to come and save Ginny."

Cora continued to speak in a voice too low to be heard by those outside, but she was seething in a way he had never seen before.

"Does this look like something caused by an _accident_?" she asked through clenched teeth. "I didn't think she could go to such lengths to escape. To do something like this to her own friend—"

Draco remained quiet. It was hard to believe Hermione could be capable of such violence, yet evidence to the contrary lay before him. Once his initial shock wore off and he realised that the injured woman was not his mate, he noticed that the only blood he could smell in the room belonged to Ginny Weasley. He tried to imagine various scenarios, which would lead to Hermione responding with such uncharacteristic violence.

Draco knew she planned to obliviate Ginny, but could not think of a single instance where a poorly executed memory charm left the kind of physical damage seen here. From the marks on the floor and the wall, Ginny appeared to have been blasted off her feet and slammed against the wall with tremendous force. It could have been caused by a burst of accidental magic, except it looked far too powerful and directed at a specific target to qualify as an accident.

It was a mystery they were unlikely to solve until Ginny woke up or was sufficiently recovered to have legilimency performed on her.

"—as if this poor woman hasn't suffered enough... And she lost her baby! You understand what this means, right?" Cora asked him. "They're going to want her back and they'll put her through hell once more to get her pregnant again."

Several thoughts rushed through his head all at once. First was concern for his mate. He hoped Hermione had made it safely out because he shuddered to imagine what they would do to her once Lucius discovered she was responsible for the death of his heir. He stared at Ginny's belly—how was he supposed to feel about the premature death of his half-sibling? He shared Cora's concern for Ginny; because of the Dark Lord's orders, Lucius would want her pregnant with his heir. How, under these circumstances, was he to keep his promise to keep Ginny safe? And if Hermione were responsible for doing this to Ginny would she even expect him to still keep his promise?

"You're culpable too," Cora pointed a finger and squinted at Draco. "There's no way she suddenly mastered wandless spell casting. _Someone _gave her a wand, and the only person here foolish enough to think helping her escape would be a good idea, is you! You know what the world has become out there, but instead of bonding with her and keeping her safe, you let her loose without any thought to the consequences. You've not only put her life at risk, you've left all of us vulnerable. What do you think they'll do to us when they realise someone in the pack armed one of the prisoners with a wand?"

Draco remained quiet. He tried to think of how he could clean up this unexpected mess. He had planned Hermione's escape in a way that left no clues on how she could have managed it. Now, thanks to this incident with Ginny Weasley, there was no hiding his involvement. Cora was right though, this was no longer just about Hermione and him, and unless he could quickly figure something out, the pack would have to pay the price for his and Hermione's actions.

* * *

[TRIGGER WARNING]

Exhausted from her run and nauseated by portkey travel, when they arrived at their destination, Hermione would have fallen to the ground if not for Fenrir's constricting hold on her body. She took a moment to catch her breath and tried to calm herself by focusing on anything other than Fenrir. The landscape surrounding her looked foreign in comparison to anything she had seen before was the predominant thought in her head as her gaze settled upon the sprawling mountains in the distance, the tops of which disappeared into the clouds leaving them partially hidden. When they left Bleidd it was late evening, yet here the dark sky and twinkling stars hinted at a time of night later than anywhere in Great Britain.

Fenrir stood nearly motionless beside her, only his head moved from side to side as if trying to find his bearings in an unfamiliar place. He held both her wrists trapped in one hand, her satchel and wand in the other. For whatever reason, this wand had chosen her as its master. It was the only explanation her brain could conjure for the way the wand had responded to Ginny before leaping into her hand. Despite Oskar's theory about her being the alpha of alphas, Fenrir was undeniably stronger than her physically, something hard to ignore when the bones in her wrists felt like they were being ground to dust from the force he was exerting on them. And unlike her, Fenrir did not need a conduit to cast his spells. That limited her options for an escape to either, get the wand back or get Fenrir to use it on her.

With precious seconds to act, she remembered something Draco often shouted at her during their training sessions:

_Don't be afraid to fight dirty, there's no unfair fight except one you lose. Do whatever it takes to win._

Fenrir's hold on her wrists was too tight and the difference in their heights made it impossible for her to do any damage with her head, which only left her legs available. If she could get a little closer to him and angle her body just so, she could knee him in the crotch hard enough to distract him and grab the wand out of his hands.

Just as Hermione moved to distract Fenrir by sidling against him seductively, Fenrir pinched her nose shut with one hand. She instinctively knew what was coming next and clamped her mouth shut. He let go of her wrists as he fumbled to reach for something within his clothes. Hermione saw her chance and went for it.

Right hand open, she bent her wrist backwards and used the heel of her palm to smash upwards into Fenrir's nose. The hit lacked the force required to break his nose but caused enough pain that he let go of her nose to hold his own. She pressed her advantage by turning the same palm sideways and delivering a swift strike to his windpipe. Once again, the blow was too weak to crush the organ, but it did force him to stumble backwards a step or two.

Hermione frantically looked around, trying to spot where Fenrir had dropped the wand. Later, she would think of how the soil here was reddish in colour, unlike anything she had seen in England. The stars shone brightly in the night sky in a way that is only possible in the absence of light pollution, which meant they were far away from any kind of civilization, at least of the Muggle variety. It is only later that Hermione would think of these things, which proved she was far from home. Right now, her focus was on locating the wand.

By the time she remembered that the wand had accepted her and would likely respond if she summoned it, Fenrir had recovered. He launched himself at her, and distracted as she was, he easily tackled her to the ground. Settling himself on her chest, he used his entire weight to bear down on her and planted his feet on her arms to pin her hands to the ground. She watched in helpless horror as he once more used one hand to pinch her nose shut while the other successfully retrieved a vial of the fertility potion from his pocket and used his teeth to uncork it. She tilted her head sideways as much as his hold would allow and kept her jaw tightly shut, but instead of forcing her to drink the potion, like she expected, he emptied the contents into his own mouth—though he did not appear to swallow.

Fenrir tossed the now empty vial aside and used both hands to seize at Hermione's jaws and pry them open. Unable to breath and hurting from the crushing force on her jawbone, her lips parted. Fenrir, who was waiting for just this moment, lowered his mouth and forced the potion from his mouth into hers. Her attempts to spit it out proved in vain as Fenrir's lips had formed a seal around her mouth, his tongue forcing the liquid back in while his hand massaged her throat in a way that made her involuntarily swallow.

Her heart sank because she knew what this meant. She did not know how much time she had before she would feel the effects of this mysterious fertility potion, she just knew she had to act quickly, while her head was still clear and she was still in control of her body.

Fenrir had done a good job pinning her upper body to the ground and rendering it useless. Plus with him seated as far up her chest as he was she would need to be an acrobat to swing her legs far enough forward to lock her legs around his neck like she wanted to. His mouth continued to remain over hers in a cruel mimicry of a kiss, his hand squeezing her jaw—hard enough she knew it would hurt as hell later—meant she could not even bite him.

He did eventually let go of, both, her mouth and jaw at once. Shifting his weight to the left, he swung his right leg off her arm and brought it around so he was kneeling at her side instead of sitting on her chest. For a brief moment, she was no longer pinned under his weight, but she had no time to act. He roughly grabbed her shoulder to flip her over, and then weighing down on her by pressing his forearm to the back of her head, he forced her face into the ground. Their movements stirred the mud around her face, bringing on a coughing fit as Hermione struggled to breathe through the dust she was inhaling.

Fenrir sat on her back and drew Hermione's arms behind her. He softly muttered incancerous and bound her arms with her palms curled into fists, ensuring she would remain incapable of summoning the wand. Another muttered incantation and her ankles were bound together such that she could move them no more than a foot apart. Her struggles and attempts to wriggle out of the binding only resulted in them tightening further. Finally satisfied that she was sufficiently incapacitated Fenrir got up off her and forcefully pulled her into a standing position. He collected her satchel and wand and held it in one hand while the other he used to clutch a fistful of her hair, which he tugged to keep her moving in the direction he wanted. Ankles bound, her short steps failed to match his long strides so by the time they reached their destination, her scalp was bleeding from all the times he had ripped out her hair.

Apart from the mountains in the distant background, for miles the scenery around them appeared to be nothing but the reddish soil with the exception of a few shrubs and fewer trees dotting the landscape. Then barely fifty paces into their walk, they had walked through the gates of a primitive version of a fortalice built from reed and mud bricks. The place had been cleverly concealed using spells she doubted Fenrir or any of the other werewolves at Bleidd were capable of casting. That along with the international portkey, which brought them here, made her suspect Voldemort or his Death Eaters were in some way involved.

Hermione tried to draw on her raw magic to direct a blast at Fenrir, but she was more scared than angry now. All this was far too familiar, reminding her of the night the Death Eaters had taken her as a prisoner, fed her the potion and left her to be fucked by some werewolf. She could just as easily have ended up sharing Ginny's fate. It was only her luck—or the act of a moon goddess, if one believed in the _were_ myths—that had delivered her into the hands of a man she was proud to call her mate. Would she continue to be lucky a second time? Not likely.

Despite the crude exterior, the carvings on the walls inside spoke of a level of sophistication one would not expect of such a militaristic-looking building. As Fenrir navigated the narrow passageways deep within the structure, it struck Hermione that the place appeared to be abandoned. Fenrir threw open a large set of doors and dragged her with a force that had her stumbling down the steps of some sort of cellar. Fortunately for her, the floor was made of mud and not stone so it did not hurt as much as it could have.

A single window at a point where the wall joined the ceiling illuminated the small and empty room. If it was a cellar, it wasn't being used to store anything. An earthy scent lingered in the air, which under different circumstances she would have found soothing.

Within the small space, Fenrir's large body easily towered over her prone form. There was no mistaking the menacing tone of his voice when he finally spoke. "Looks like you need to be taught a little lesson, _Mud-blood_," he said, drawing out the syllables of the ugly word he had refrained from using while he was courting her.

Hermione kept her head lowered to the ground, only her eyes tracking the movement of his boots as he paced around her head.

"The Dark Lord is mad at Potter, but that's nothing new now, is it? Wanted to torture you and the redhead publically as a bit of payback, but **I** came to your rescue. Risked my own neck to remind our Lord you were gifted to the pack and I had yet to use your womb. He agreed to keep his word, but of course, punished me for speaking up... All those Death Eaters, weak bunch of ponces, thinking they're better'n me just 'cause _they_ have the Mark. They enjoyed watching me get punished, they did. Because of you! 'n how do you repay me?" He stopped his pacing to stand beside her. "Take advantage of my hospitality, spit on my generous offer, and nearly go and make that cunt of yours useless for the rest of us by trying to bond with the Malfoy pup, you ungrateful BITCH!" Drawing his foot back, he delivered a solid kick to her flank.

Hermione grit her teeth in agony as she curled in on herself. From the way her side hurt, he had surely cracked one of her ribs.

"Some of the lads came to see me last night.' said you and Draco had bonded, which I thought was a bunch of bollocks till they said they felt a pack bond with you. Ever since he knocked you up Malfoy's been acting like he's hot stuff, but if that brat thinks he's going to challenge my position in the pack just 'cause he fathered a couple of bastards with you he's not as smart as he thinks. Now, this all must sound like a bunch of nonsense to you," Fenrir dropped into a squat and hunched over her head, "what with it being pack business and all, so I'll put this in terms you can understand." He eliminated the distance between them by abruptly pulling on a fistful of her hair to force her to meet his gaze. "I'm still alpha, and I fully plan to breed you till you die or your womb breaks from all the births."

There was a dark promise in Fenrir's eyes as he delivered the threat, but instead of fear, a thrill went through her. A sure sign the potion had worked its way into her bloodstream.

He let go of her hair so suddenly she could not catch herself. Hermione's head slammed down, her already tender jaw hitting the ground first.

"Was on my way to Bleidd to pick you up and bring you here, imagine my surprise when I catch the scent of Mudblood on the castle grounds and follow it, only to find my prisoner escaping! Almost made it too, didn't you?" he asked with a mocking laugh. "So now here's your punishment. You'll no longer be allowed to stay with the pack at Bleidd, this is your new home—" he held his hands out to gesture around him. "You'll live here and be a good little cunt till your belly's full with my babies. Please me and I'll bond with you during the next full moon. Otherwise, soon as you've whelped a few pups for me I'll make you the pack whore and let each of my men take their turn at breeding you."

Hermione remained silent. There was nothing for her to say. Did Draco have any inkling of what was happening to her? Obviously not, or she would not be here.

"If you behave, you'll get to see your twins again—" these words made Hermione's head snap up. Did it mean Fenrir had brought her sons here as well? ...when would he have done so? "—Funny bit of business this, and a good bit of luck for me I suppose, that I found you when I did. See, no one in the pack knows I found you, they'll just think you ran away!" he said gleefully.

"Now, you be a good little bitch who listens to her alpha and doesn't try to escape, and I'll bring you your sons so you can do some mothering every now and then. But try to defy me in any way or fight me, and I'll bring your sons back here just to fuck their toothless mouths and tear off their limbs right before your eyes. Been years since I ate any babies, you can bet I'll go slow to really relish it."

Hermione shuddered in revulsion at the scene described.

"You're not a werewolf yourself so your mate bond will be weak. A bit of separation from Draco and alotta my cum should do the trick, break whatever half-arsed bond you've got with him. Should be easy enough to knock you up after that," he declared with confidence.

Hermione looked at him in shock and disgust. With everything she had come to learn about werewolves and the pack during her stay at Bleidd, it was hard to believe that the pack's alpha would stoop to such shameful levels. Instead of fighting Draco or any of the other wolves for the right to mate with her, he was essentially stealing her by attempting to destroy the mate bond. While the rest of the pack treated children as a sacred gift and cared for Wilbur and Martin as if they were the most precious thing in their lives, Fenrir found it acceptable to use them as leverage over her. She tried not to focus on her imminent defilement. She needed her anger in this moment, not her fear.

Fenrir watched Hermione seethe in righteous anger, then suddenly his mouth twisted into an ugly smile. As much as she was trying to be discreet in her attempt at rubbing her thighs together she recognised the futility of it, he had quite likely smelled the juices oozing out of her as her passage prepared itself for penetration. She turned her head away from him so he could not see the shame in her eyes as she teased her nipples by rubbing her chest against the ground.

Fenrir stood up, once more looming over her. His hand placed over his crotch, he began to rub his shaft over his clothes. While he had forced her to swallow the bulk of the potion, perhaps he had inadvertently ingested enough to be affected to some extent himself.

"Can't have the pack wondering 'bout my whereabouts or getting ideas. I'm going to have to head back and organise a search for our favourite Mudblood. Your greedy cunt will just have to wait till next time," he said, but proceeded to free his member from the confines of his trousers. He dragged the toe of his boot up and down the crack of her arse teasing her flesh while he stroked his cock.

Despite the bindings on her ankle and the pain in her rib Hermione spread her knees and arched her back as much as she could trying to get his boot to graze against her clitoris. Even with her clothes on, there was a spark of pleasure as his boot slid along the outer lips of her labia. Simultaneously she felt disgust over the intimate touch coming from someone other than her mate.

Fenrir was stroking his cock faster now, and Hermione had to bite her tongue to keep herself from begging him to stick it inside her and fuck her for all he was worth. He continued to tease her flesh, pushing her towards her own release until soon she was crying out in relief as well as grief over what was happening to her. He climaxed shortly after, aiming his rod at her so she was left covered in streaks of his seed to serve as a disgusting reminder of what he had done to her long after he left and the potion wore off.

When he was done he did not bother to untie her or even say a word before he walked away, leaving her alone in the dark. She heard him snap his fingers when he reached the top of the stairs and an elf appeared just before the door was sealed shut. Her brain, clouded with the fog of lust as she bore the full brunt of the potion hitting her system, struggled to follow their exchange as they walked away.

If Draco and the pack were truly unaware of her capture, Fenrir was quite likely on his way to carry out his threat and bring the twins here. She did not need to escape; she just needed to conjure a wandless patronus to alert Draco of Fenrir's intentions. Hermione took a deep breath and concentrated on the magic flowing in her veins. She opened her mouth to chant the spell, but all that left her lips was a helpless whimper begging for someone, anyone to fuck her.


	20. Chapter 20

Draco looked around him, at Cora's upset face, at Ginny Weasley's body now lying in a magically induced sleep on her bed, and at the blood dried on the floor. If he continued to act without consulting with the members of his pack, he would be no better than Fenrir, whose poor decisions often negatively impacted his pack.

Draco stepped out into the corridor and signalled for Gunnolf to join them inside.

"I'm not sure what's going on, but I sent for Oskar. ' had a hunch we may need our Elder's counsel. He should be joining us any minute now," said Gunnolf.

Draco nodded in approval.

"So, what did actually take place here?" Gunnolf pointed to the scene of the accident, "Going by the reports, it would appear as if Hermione attacked Ginny and escaped."

Draco did not respond, instead he set about the task of cleaning up the blood and returning the room to its original state, erasing all traces of what transpired there in the evening.

"You look fairly composed considering Hermione is missing," observed Gunnolf with a smirk.

Hearing footsteps, they turned towards the door, to see Oskar slowly approaching. He was alone.

"Where are Martin and Wilbur?" asked Draco.

"I heard about what happened here and thought it wiser to leave them behind. They're in Cora's quarters being watched by Lexi and Zoey. They'll be fine."

Oskar slowly made his way to the only chair available in the room and sagged onto it before he addressed the room. "While the three of you stand around here, you ought to know the castle is abuzz with news of a prisoner escaping."

With Oskar there, there was no more need for delay. Ready to talk, Draco first cast a Muffliato.

"It'll grant us privacy so no one can hear us," he explained to the baffled-looking werewolves who were unfamiliar with the spell created by Severus. "Normally, we wouldn't care for secrets within the pack, but we may need to make an exception this time."

Cora, who had remained silent so far, took this as her cue to finally speak. "Of course! We wouldn't want any more people learning about how Hermione left Ginny for dead before she escaped."

"Cora," said Draco, for the first time using a severe tone with the woman who had been a mother figure to him since he joined their pack, "I know you're not too fond of Hermione and have reservations about her, but set aside your personal feelings and think logically."

"I'm not the one who's allowing personal feelings to cloud their judgement, Draco. You're the one denying evidence seen by your own eyes."

"And what is this evidence?" asked Oskar.

Oskar and Gunnolf looked to Cora for details and she wasted no time in recounting what had taken place. When she was done, both werewolves looked shock to hear of the extent of Ginny's injuries.

"As damning as it appears, Cora, why would Hermione want to hurt her friend in this terrible manner?" asked Oskar.

They all silently reflected on the question. It was true. The level of violence did not make sense.

"Hermione's magic can be unstable at times. She once blasted me off my feet without meaning to," said Draco, sharing his suspicions. "Maybe this was something similar?"

"Accidental magic!" Cora shook her head in disbelief. "I realise it's hard to accept that Hermione did _this_," she said, pointing to Ginny, "but, have you ever known accidental outbursts of magic to cause this kind of damage unless directed at a specific target?"

"I think we're missing a more vital point right now," said Gunnolf, preventing Cora from pressing on the matter. "While I'd like to get to the bottom of this someday, I'm more worried about what to say to the Death Eater waiting to take the two witches into his custody... This is going to hurt us."

Sensing it was time to come clean, Draco shared the details of the plan Hermione was supposed to follow in order to escape.

—

"She only planned to obliviate her?" asked Oskar.

"But aren't memory charms risky?" asked Gunnolf, at the same time.

Draco gave each of them a nod. "Yes, but even in the worst cases I've never heard of a magical blast accompanying a poorly cast memory charm—Look, we can solve this mystery by questioning Ginny once she's recovered. Right now, as Gunnolf said, we need to come up with an explanation. To start with, what incriminates the pack?"

"The wand," said Cora. "Both, the patronus and the state of this room, clearly show there was a wand involved."

"True," agreed Draco, "but the patronus appeared in pack quarters. I doubt anyone outside the pack saw it. Do we know who saw the patronus and who managed to get a good look at the bloodied body of Ginny Weasley?"

"I know of two who saw the patronus, but they could barely describe the animal let alone guess who it belonged to or where it was headed," said Gunnolf. "And, including the young Death Eater currently waiting in my office, about half a dozen got a good look at the scene in here."

"We have to hide what happened to Ginny. They **cannot** know she miscarried," insisted Cora, "or they will take her and rape her again."

Draco had already given the matter some thought. "Is there any way to fool the Death Eaters into believing she's still pregnant?" he asked Cora.

Cora appeared thoughtful for a few minutes before she replied. "I expect the Death Eater who saw Ginny will want to confirm she's still pregnant. Unless he's had Healer training specialising in obstetrics, I doubt he knows more than the basic pregnancy detection spell... Provided I'm given some time to prepare, I may have a way to produce a false positive for the pregnancy detection spell, yes."

"We could say she had an accident, a fall... or something equally plausible, and risks miscarrying if she travels. Given her condition not long before her arrival at Bleidd, it shouldn't be too hard to sell such a lie—" Draco paused to give Cora a questioning gaze. At her nod of confirmation, he continued, "For now, we only need to convince everyone that she's still pregnant."

Though unsaid, everyone knew this was a temporary fix to their Ginny problem. After all, there was only so long they could fake a pregnancy.

"That still leaves us with the matter of Hermione's escape," pointed out Gunnolf.

"I see no way of hiding the fact that she's escaped... or that she had help to do so," added Oskar.

Draco had already considered multiple scenarios, but every excuse ultimately fell apart in the absence of a scapegoat. Voldemort would need someone he could punish for Hermione's escape.

"I was thinking of framing our guests. Knock one of them out. Take their wand and obliviate their memories of the last twenty-four hours. Set it all up to look like Hermione got the better of one of their people and used them to escape."

"It'll take the suspicion off the pack," noted Oskar with an approving nod.

When it looked like no one was going to object, Gunnolf decided to be the voice of their conscience. "Are we choosing to ignore what'll happen to whoever we decide to pin this on?"

Cora's eyes held pure spite when she spoke, but they all knew it wasn't directed at the head beta. "You think any of them have their hands clean? You think any of them, working down in the dungeons, don't have the blood of one of our own on their hands?"

* * *

They parted ways once each of them was clear on what they needed to do. Gunnolf left to find a suitable scapegoat; Draco would try to sell Theo on the narrative they had cooked up; and Oskar would use his influence to silence the pack members about the extent of Ginny's injuries. Cora was left behind to monitor Ginny's recovery as well as get started on the potion that would convince everyone else that the girl was still pregnant.

The potion was simple enough and something she had learnt during the time she was training to be a Healer. It was said that a long time ago, this particular potion was created by one of the trainees as a way to prank their classmates. Upon consumption, for up to an hour, any diagnostic spell cast on the drinker produced a false positive, making accurate analysis impossible. On more than one occasion, Cora had witnessed fellow trainees play pranks on one another by making them test positive for embarrassing illnesses like genital warts or exploding pustules. Created as a gag, the potion lacked any other practical applications and was unknown to the general population. As Cora prepared the ingredients needed, she hoped the potion typically used as a joke would help Ginny escape her awful predicament.

* * *

Once it was just the two of them, Oskar turned to Draco, uncertainty clouding his face.

"I know what we agreed to upstairs, but there's something I'd like to test out. I want you to be the one to talk to the pack," said Oskar solemnly, "I'd like you to order them not to say anything about what they actually saw today."

Draco was puzzled, something in his tone implied Oskar did not just mean for him to issue an order as one of the pack's betas. He opened his mouth to ask for clarification, but stopped short at the feel of Oskar's hand on his shoulder, giving it a reassuring squeeze.

"I can't really explain it right now, but I will. When you talk to the pack, think about what it is you want them to do and then command them to do it. I'll go check on the twins." Offering no further explanation, Oskar walked away.

* * *

Hermione's body felt drained. The sunrays warmed her skin. It was daytime. How much time had passed? It was hard to tell while she remained under the influence of the modified fertility potion. Her lips were cracked, throat parched, eyes swollen and probably red from all her crying. For hours, she had begged for anyone to touch her, and nearly dislocated her shoulder attempting to free her hand just so she could touch herself.

Now that she was conscious, she could _feel_ every part of her body that hurt. She drew in a deep shuddering breath, instantly regretting it. The stench of dried cum and her own filth, from when she'd soiled herself during the course of the night, made her stomach twist in disgust.

Hermione lay bound, weak and helpless in a way she had never felt before. She made another futile attempt at conjuring a patronus, in spite of knowing she was too weak to succeed.

The elf appeared in her line of vision. She had no idea when it arrived in the cellar and how long it stood there watching her. It wore a simple pillowcase. Hermione had never heard of any werewolf owning an elf, and certainly not Fenrir, but the elf's actions soon convinced Hermione that it followed Fenrir's commands. She hoped she could convince it to free her by appealing to its better nature. The elf, determined to complete its task, ignored her pleas. It squeezed her cheeks with its bony fingers until she opened her mouth and then fed her the damned potion once more. Her lips were so dry and she was so thirsty, she greedily lapped it up despite knowing what it would do to her.

* * *

Draco walked to Gunnolf's office in a daze. This wasn't his first time ordering members of his pack, but something was distinctly different today. He could not quite understand it, but when he issued his command that they were not to talk to anyone about seeing a patronus or Ginny's injuries, inexplicably, he _knew_ that these people, _his _people, would obey his order even if it meant defying Fenrir. It did not make any sense and it was another thing in a list of things he would need to revisit later. Right now, he needed to speak with Theo.

Even before he entered the room, Draco sensed Fenrir's presence—his excitement was palpable. Inside, Gunnolf and three other betas who were among their best trackers stood before the alpha. Given the situation with the prisoners, Fenrir's face showed no trace of the panic or fury he expected to see there, making Draco wary as he approached the group. With all the large werewolves standing around the room, he almost missed Theo lounging in a chair at the back. Theo gave the impression he was more interested in the imaginary lint on his clothes than whatever was going on around him, but Draco was not fooled.

"Ah, nice of you to join us, Draco," said Fenrir with a sneer. "We're just figuring out a plan to hunt down your Mudblood. Amount of time you spent sniffing her cunt you'll be the quickest to pick up her scent, won't you?"

Draco ignored the jibe. It would make no sense for him to get into a fight with the alpha right now. Eyes cast down, he asked, "Is it confirmed then, is Granger really missing?"

"Not just missing, pup. ESCAPED. I caught her scent near the stables when I arrived this evening. Tracked it ' far as I could, but lost it somewhere near the portkey point."

Though it irritated his wolf, Draco did not make direct eye contact with the alpha, observing him only through his peripheral vision even when he spoke. "Do we know how she escaped?"

Gunnolf answered. "We found a confounded-looking Black Cloak walking around. He couldn't remember how he got here. He," Gunnolf tilted his head towards Theo, "took a look into his head but the man appeared to be missing a day. He was also missing his wand."

Draco could feel Fenrir's eyes on him.

"I must say, lad, all that time spent playing happy family with her, and yet you don't look nowhere as upset as I'd thought you'd be over losing your little fucktoy."

Draco shrugged. "My pups are fine. Why would I be upset about the Mudblood escaping? My only concern is figuring out how she managed to get past our security."

"Oh ho!" Fenrir chuckled. "That's your stone cold Malfoy blood talking. Bet your wolf's itching to chase after his bitch."

"My wolf and I are content with any bitch who can carry our seed. The womb is but a vessel, it is the fruit which is important."

Fenrir looked like he was going to say something but then changed his mind about it.

"Yeah, well, you were meant to keep a close eye on her, not just spend time filling her with your seed. The Mudblood's probably fucking Potter right now, laughing at how easy it was to fool you," mocked Fenrir. "I say you're partly to blame for her escape, so you get to give the good news to the Dark Lord. You're to accompany Nott Junior here and explain to the Dark Lord why he won't be getting the prisoners he asked for today."

Fenrir turned his back on Draco and looked to Gunnolf. "Put together four teams to do a more thorough sweep of the castle grounds. Wait till it's sunrise, then have one of the Black Cloaks contact the Ministry. Ask them for a list of the portkey destinations for anyone who portkeyed from Bleidd in the last twelve hours. See how many locations they give us and accordingly assign tracking teams for each destination—"

Draco had stopped listening, worried as he was about what the Dark Lord would do to him this time. When it came to the Dark Lord, even being the bearer of bad news could prove detrimental to one's health, something Fenrir would know well enough. He had been so focused on giving Voldemort a target he forgot about their sadistic alpha. Given his relationship with Hermione, he had never expected to walk away unscathed, but he had also not prepared himself for the possibility of having to face the wrath of the Dark Lord once again.

* * *

"I know what I saw, Draco... No matter what your Healer or Mr. Beefcake say, whatever happened to Ginny Weasley was no small accident."

"Mr. Beefcake?" Draco blinked at the unfamiliar name.

"That hunk of flesh that runs the show for Greyback."

"...Gunnolf?"

"Is that what he's called?" asked Theo, adding, "I like it, suits him."

Draco mostly kept quiet as they walked to the portkey point while Theo continued to make his point.

"The Black Cloak struck me as scatty enough to be bested by even a wandless witch, but if Granger did indeed obliviate him, how strange that he has no memories of the time _after_ Granger left him. Now, it is possible Granger used a Confundus or something more sophisticated that led to his state of confusion... but if Granger abandoned him at the portkey point, how serendipitous that after hours of clueless wandering the man should make it to the castle without running into a single soul until he was found by Mr. Beefcake," Theo observed. "And yet incredibly, those things aren't half as suspicious as Greyback disappearing—apparently in pursuit of Granger—and returning hours later, looking as merry as can be, despite his failure to catch her."

Draco wasn't worried about Hermione. She was a capable witch with a wand, and though they were not completely bonded he was confident he would sense if she was in any danger. No, it wasn't concern; it was being separated from her that was tugging at his heart. Still, it was hard to dismiss Fenrir's suspicious behaviour. A snarl escaped Draco's lips when he tried to imagine what the alpha might have been up to while he was gone.

Theo raised his hands in a gesture of surrender. "Easy there. I hope you realise I'm not the enemy, Draco. I never have been," he assured, holding out the portkey for Draco to grab.

—

Soon as they arrived, Draco placed one hand heavily on Theo's shoulder to halt him. "What's this really about, Theo? Why did the Dark Lord want Granger and the Weaselette?" Draco resorted to the use of old monikers in an attempt to re-establish familiarity.

Theo shook his head. "It's not like the Dark Lord keeps us underlings apprised of the minutiae of his plans, all I know is that it has something to do with Potter destroying another horcrux."

Draco inhaled sharply. He only found out about the cursed object after he failed to protect one of them. "You know about the horcruxes?"

Theo snickered. "Whatever my father's faults, one thing I'll say for him, that man does not believe in keeping secrets from his family."

One did not need to know Theo to read between the lines, his tone made clear that he did keep secrets from his father.

"So, Potter succeeded yet again..." Draco used a neutral tone. While Theo's demeanour was friendly, it was almost too friendly and jocular for the Theo he remembered.

"Yes. The Dark Lord made a locket horcrux, which was safely hidden away in a cave for years. A few days ago, Potter started sending him mental images of the locket through that odd link they share. It wasn't so much the image itself but the smugness he could sense in Potter during those moments that made the Dark Lord feel apprehensive enough to go check on his locket... To say he was enraged is an understatement. I haven't seen him this keen for Potter's blood since our school days."

"Well, The Chosen One did always know how to be a thorn in _his_ side," Draco remarked, maintaining a neutral tone. He would keep his guard up until he knew where Theo's loyalties truly lay.

"Surprisingly so. When he didn't show up for that horror show in Godric's Hollow, I was confident Potter was dead. The kind of saviour complex he suffers from, it would've been impossible for him to resist a rescue attempt if he was still alive. But, I was wrong. Looks like he finally learnt how this game needs to be played."

Draco doubted Potter would ever learn how to play the game; it was simply not in Potter's nature. On the other hand, saving people was, which is why Potter's failure to show up at Godric's Hollow was so puzzling.

"Considering the Weaselette is carrying your father's child, I suppose they planned to parade her around. I doubt they would risk a public miscarriage after they've been going on about the birth rate the way they have... It's a mystery why they wanted Granger though, since Greyback had already got her a pardon."

Theo's last sentence caught Draco's attention.

"What do you mean Greyback got her a pardon?" he asked.

"It happened in a meeting of the old guard, I only know what father told me. Greyback in his own subservient manner objected to Granger being killed. As a reward, Greyback received an hour of the Dark Lord's _special_ treatment for daring to remind him that Granger belonged to the wolves. Father said Granger was to be spared, so I don't know why I was asked to bring her to headquarters."

A low growl escaped Draco's throat. It was unlike the alpha to risk angering his master and it was definitely unlike him to take risks to save someone else's hide. Fenrir would only wish to secure Hermione's safety if he stood to gain something from keeping her alive. And if Fenrir had endured torture for Hermione's sake, instead of being all cheery, he would have gone on a rampage soon as he discovered she had given him the slip. Added up, this did not look good at all.

However, if Fenrir did capture Hermione, where could he have taken her? If Voldemort had ordered that Hermione be brought to Headquarters, would Fenrir be ballsy enough to defy his master and take her anywhere else, or do exactly as commanded? Everything he knew about Fenrir Greyback told him the latter was more likely.

Conveniently, they were already at Headquarters so he could snoop around to find out where Hermione was being held. Draco wished he could confront Fenrir and shake the answers out of him, but even if he was strong enough to challenge the alpha, he doubted he was strong enough to throw the alpha bond. No, he needed to play it smart. There were times that required the boldness of the wolf and then there were times, like now, that called for the deceptiveness of a snake.

* * *

She was losing time. Hermione looked up. Someone was talking to her but her brain felt full of wool. With great effort, she focused on the voice until her brain identified it as Fenrir's. Drugged and sapped of all energy, she could only make out bits and pieces of what he was saying.

"...Lord thinks I'm wasting time ... ordered to breed you ... doesn't know about mate bonds ... stupid FUCKING mate bond ... make Draco pay for ... gonna wish he was dead ... What's wrong with you? ... just doesn't make sense ... Why is there no alpha bond when there's ... can't command you like this ... Lazy fuckin' cunt! ... dirty, stinkin' Mudblood ... lying in your filth ... am I supposed to get hard? ... full moon in two nights ... will just have to turn you for now ... command you as your sire and your alpha ... should please the Dark Lord ... break the mate bond ... should be able to carry my pups then..."

Hermione tried to fix her eyes on the blurry shape of Fenrir in the dim light, it was only when she felt ropes of hot come splash over her did she realise he had once again jerked off on her and left.


	21. Chapter 21

It was incredible the difference three years could make, thought Draco as he walked the halls of the reformed Ministry.

"You probably haven't been here in a while," stated Theo, correctly guessing Draco's thoughts, "Things have changed a bit."

Draco nodded. At first glance it looked the same as always, a bunch of bureaucrats going about their business, but scratch the surface and—

"Foxes guarding the henhouse," muttered Theo voicing Draco's thoughts.

It was just the two of them when they entered one of the Ministry elevators. Within the confined space, Theo stood facing the doors and with his back to Draco. If not for his lupine sense of smell, Draco would not have noticed the subtle movement made by Theo as he took a quick sip from a vial. But Draco had caught a whiff of the potion the instant the vial was uncorked and having excelled in potions at school recognised what it was.

The elevator dinged when it reached their floor and Theo turned towards Draco with a bright smile, gesturing for him to exit first.

"Where are we headed to?" Draco asked, studying Theo more closely while walking past him.

Until now, Draco had been too preoccupied with Hermione and pack affairs to spot the evidence in plain sight. Theo wore expertly applied glamour charms under his eyes, the caps of his teeth and on the bed of his nails, most likely to hide the telltale signs of long-term addiction to the Elixir of Euphoria. Suddenly Theo's unnaturally cheery disposition made sense.

What had his old friend done, just how dirty did he get his hands before his conscience began to gnaw away at him?

In the shadow of the rising Death Eater Empire, Draco had discovered his conscience despite being relatively bloodthirsty compared to the pacifist Theo. Though both wizards had believed in the superiority of Purebloods, Theo did not wish to see others exterminated or even segregated, claiming that even the non-Pures served a purpose within society.

_"We're outnumbered, Draco."_

_"Yes. Their kind breeds in the gutters and spreads through our world like a disease. We need to cut out the sickness."_

_"No, Draco. We're outnumbered. The ruling class usually is… That's what we need to do, rule over them. We don't need to kill the Halfbloods and Mudbloods. We just need to subjugate them."_

To Draco's fifteen-year-old self, Theo's solution had sounded far more complex and far less satisfactory than his own solution of throwing Avadas at whoever they considered unworthy. Neither boy could have imagined that both forms of punishment would become a reality in the future, with the Halfbloods enslaved and the Muggleborns executed.

Thinking back to those old conversations, Draco could now recognise that as Pureblood nobility, they were never given an opportunity to think for themselves. As children, they had only parroted the words they were indoctrinated to believe were true. If the hatred had originated in his heart, his wand would never have failed to cast the killing spell and Theo would have been one of the bureaucrats in the Ministry drafting the laws that legalised slavery, not a low-ranking Death Eater.

Draco observed Theo's smiling face. Things must certainly bleak if a few smiles and some cheeky banter was the extent of the cheering potion's effect on Theo.

* * *

Hermione moaned and tossed about. With her hands bound behind her back and her ankles linked, no matter how much she struggled she was unable to stimulate herself to an orgasm. Her breasts were heavy and hurt from all the unexpressed milk, her nipples hardened nubs, painfully sensitive. All she could do was helplessly rub her thighs together and wait for someone to come.

_No one comes… **especially** not me_.

_Draco's sense of humour has definitely rubbed off on me._

_Mmmm…Remember something else of his rubbing against me too._

_My mate's so sexy… fucks me so good._

_He'd hit the spot if he were here._

Hermione imagined Draco touching her breasts, his large hands kneading and moulding the swollen curves. She imagined his long fingers thumbing her nipples as he teased her. His skilled fingers would slide down to tease her clit, making sure she was good and wet before pushing her head to the ground so her cheek was pressed against the mud floor. Her position would be similar to what it was right now, except her hips would remain invitingly in the air.

His hands would slide along her flanks and stroke her buttocks to ease the aches in her muscles before the head of his cock parted the lips of her labia and pushed inside her. At first, his strokes would be shallow, meant to bring her closer to the edge. Once she was ready, he would grab her waist and pull her hips back against him. With a single thrust forward, he would penetrate her fully in such a deeply satisfying manner it would be enough to make her climax screaming his name.

With a final cry of frustration, Hermione came. Her back arched into a bow, with her head, chest and feet lifting off the ground, as she experienced a mild orgasm from rubbing her mound against the floor. She remained that way until the position became too painful to hold and she flopped once again to the ground.

Hermione breathed in short shallow gasps but the brief climax helped to clear her head somewhat of the overwhelming lust that came with the potion the elf fed her. As a trained member, first of the DA and then the Order of the Phoenix, she was used to making quick assessments of any situation and her current one appeared to be as bad as it could get. She was unarmed, bound, injured, exhausted, famished and drugged in a foreign country, in an unknown location protected by the Fidelius charm. Her warden was a house elf loyal to Fenrir. She had no idea how much time had passed since Fenrir last visited her or how many days before the full moon, she only knew that she could not let Fenrir be the one to turn her.

Determined to attempt an escape while she was still clear headed, Hermione tried to gather what little strength she had by taking several deep breaths. A bad idea. The combined stench of her waste products along with the dried sweat and cum made her stomach lurch and empty its contents, despite there being nothing to throw up.

Hermione rolled on to her side. Using her elbow for leverage, she pushed herself up into a sitting position with her knees bent and feet tucked under her bum. Her fatigued body did not appreciate the added strain on her calves and thighs as she moved into a kneeling position then rocked backwards on the balls of her feet to jump into a squat. She could feel the muscle burn as she stood up, but did not cry. Instead, she tried to tap into the anger and frustration she felt over her incarceration, hoping in that way to draw on her raw magic to cast wandless spells.

The room was small and empty. A small flight of stairs went up to the door and a single window high up illuminated the room. There was nothing she could use as a weapon but she could wear down the bindings on her hands by rubbing them against the end of the handrail. It was a long shot, yet better than simply lying around in her own shit and piss, waiting for Fenrir to return and rape her.

It was only a few minutes of rubbing her bindings before her clitoris began tingling again. Hermione closed her eyes and shook her head, the sweat-soaked ends of her hair whipping against her shoulders.

Her body shuddered. There were trickles of moisture along the inside of her thighs. Had she wet herself again? No, something else had caused it. She was hornier than she had ever been in her life, than she had ever thought possible.

"What..." she croaked as she backed into the wall, unable to get any other words out.

_No, no, no… Not again! I've **got** to keep my head clear._

It was a dirty trick, but an effective one, keeping her feeling far too horny to plot an escape.

"Sweet Morgana," she whispered. There was a wet patch on her chest as her breasts began to leak. It wasn't long before she lost control of her thoughts once more, focusing only on the ache between her thighs.

* * *

Draco sat by himself in the anteroom as he waited to be called upon. The Dark Lord liked to hold court like some feudal overlord so Draco was left alone when Theo went ahead to request an audience for them. That was hours ago. They were deliberately making him wait so the anticipation left him a nervous wreck by the time he was finally called in.

The day had not been a complete waste. Familiar with some of the games the Dark Lord liked to play, he had slipped away early on to make his enquiries around the Ministry. Most of the people working there were unaware of his current status as a creature but they were all well aware of his name and family status, which made it a lot easier for him to get the answers he sought. From what he gathered, there were no Order members currently imprisoned within the Ministry and none who had even passed through in a long time.

He was considering people he could question and places he should check, when a flash of heat and arousal washed over him. If not for the fact that he was alone, he would have suspected someone had jinxed him. It took him a few moments to recognise the feeling had come from Hermione. She must have been incredibly aroused for him to pick up on it.

_"The Mudblood's probably fucking Potter right now, laughing at how easy it was to fool you."_

Draco growled, recalling the Fenrir's words.

_No, they're just friends!_

Hermione did not want Potter that way. She had to be thinking of her mate for him to have sensed her need.

His mate needed him and he wasn't there to satisfy her. Part of him felt tormented while the part that had worried about her safety relaxed a little. Since she left, nearly twenty-four hours ago, the only thing he had sensed from her was her arousal. He hoped that meant she was safe somewhere.

He had no reason to believe Hermione was in danger, except for Fenrir's suspicious behaviour, which could be explained away by the fact that the alpha was a genuinely creepy man who was always acting shifty.

What had his witch feeling so aroused? It was his birthday in four days and he had planned to celebrate it with his new family. They would start the day off with the four of them picnicking in the woods followed by some alone time with Hermione. He had deliberately failed to mention his birthday to her to put her on the spot. Then when she asked him what he wanted as his gift he would have handed her a skein of red silk ribbon and ask her to get creative when she wrapped herself in it. He could just imagine the blush in her cheeks followed by the twinkle in her eyes when she heard his suggestion.

He hoped Hermione and the Order would work out some way for them to be together. Honestly, after having worried about her being injured by Ginny and then captured by Fenrir, he just wanted to be together with her again, and did not care about being an outcast anymore. Maybe with his mate and his pups, his mind would survive the separation from the pack.

Draco slumped in his seat. Being an outcast wasn't the real issue here. The real danger was to the lives of his sons who, along with Hermione and himself, would be put into the crosshairs of Lucius, Fenrir, the Dark Lord and an army of Death Eaters the second they suspected him of switching sides.

His father had taught him as a child that as close as one kept their friends, one needed to keep their enemies closer. Even if by some miracle the Order accepted Draco and his pups, leaving was not an option for him. Yet at the same time, he did not want her to return and accept Fenrir's alpha bond.

Not for the first time, Draco thought of how much easier it would be if Fenrir were not their alpha. Hermione could return, be mated with him and safe if the pack had a new leader—someone who had the pack's best interests at heart, did not believe in the Death Eater cause and was deceptive enough to convince the Dark Lord he was still a loyal follower. Such a leader would solve all his current problems in a hurry.

* * *

[TRIGGER WARNING]

Fenrir was smiling at her expectantly, Hermione noticed through her drugged stupor. She was still struggling to figure out what his expression meant when he dragged her limp body by the hair into a standing position.

_Fuck this!_ Tired of his sick games, she tilted her chin and stared into his eyes rebelliously.

His fearsome face contorted into a hideous smile.

At a snap of his fingers, the elf popped into the room holding a familiar-looking bassinet. Hermione craned her neck as far as she could and gasped. Her babies lay peacefully asleep in there. She tried to get to her pups but between Fenrir's grip on her hair and the bindings on her wrists and ankles made it impossible.

He dragged her two steps away from her sons and dangled a vial of potion in front of her.

Hermione mentally cursed the fertility potion. It would have hurt Severus to know the manner in which Voldemort and his followers were using his creation to forward their evil agenda.

Two fat drops rolled down her eyes as she squeezed them shut, and obediently opened her mouth in acceptance of her fate. She swallowed the potion Fenrir poured down her throat and knew she was given her a particularly potent dose when her whole body started heating up within minutes. Her skin was so sensitive even the fabric of her own clothes brushing against her skin was stimulating.

Sometime later, Hermione opened her eyes and looked around. The elf and her sons were gone and the only other person in the room was a naked Fenrir Greyback. The alpha wasted no time tearing away at her clothes, pausing only to _evanesco_ the layer of filth on her. He pushed her face down to the ground and put an arm under her to pull her up so her arse was in the air. The position was not very different from what she had imagined Draco doing to her minutes, days, hours—she could not say how long—ago. One hand kept her face pressed into the mud floor in a show of dominance as he buried his cock inside her with a hard thrust.

Hermione winced. Despite how turned on she was, his entry was painfully intrusive. Although her first time with Draco had involved his wolf roughly fucking her without her consent while she was drugged, he was acting on his biological instincts at the time. Draco had not deliberately hurt her or taken delight in her torment. Compared to that, Fenrir was brutally pounding into her with no mind to her pleasure or comfort, grunting in approval any time she cried out in pain. There was no nuance to what was happening here, Fenrir was raping her.

The potion was fully in effect now. The lust from the potion had her pushing back onto Fenrir's cock, even as the mate bond tugged at her, making her feel sicker with every thrust.

A few more violent thrusts and the alpha released his seed inside her with a howl. He rolled off her and promptly fell asleep with no thought to her need. Cunt throbbing, the rest of her still sore from her previous injuries as well as Fenrir's rough handling she curled up into a ball. Hermione fell asleep crying, her mind too clouded by lust to remember the reason for her tears.

She had only just begun to nod off when her thighs were pried apart and a heavy weight settled on her. She was on her back, wrists bound and placed beneath her. Her legs, tied together loosely at the ankles, were around Fenrir with her feet resting against his back. The whole position made it impossible for her slender body to roll away from Fenrir's enormous form. She could not even pull up her knees to ease the discomfort of having him squeezed between her legs without it drawing him closer to her.

"A good bitch presents her wet cunt when an alpha shows an interest in her," he snarled, nearly crushing her collarbone as he squeezed a shoulder. His other hand held his cock, which he attempted to shove inside her, but the effects of the potion had dulled and he struggled to penetrate her.

Growling in frustration, he rubbed his cock against her entrance in an attempt to arouse her. It only made her sick.

"Work on showing me some gratitude, Mudblood. I may decide to spare your pups if you made an effort to please me."

Hermione gawked at him in confusion. She had complied with his wishes, what more did he expect of her?

"You may have been clever at school, but you're just a dumb cunt, aren't you?" he asked snidely. Then, possibly deciding he had enough of the foreplay, Fenrir spat on the head of his cock and roughly shoved himself inside her. Hermione bit back the scream of pain, hoping he would get bored and finish quicker.

"You're young. Bet you could pop several litters before you're useless. What need have I to raise Malfoy's bastards?" he casually asked while his cock pistoned in and out of her.

The uneasy feeling in the pit of her stomach multiplied as her brain finally understood what he was implying.

"There's no need for you to hurt my sons, Fenrir. If you think they'll be a burden to you in some way you could return them to the pack," she implored.

Fenrir made a sound, something between a grunt and a chuckle.

"Pack's going to be going through some changes soon. ' doubt anyone willing to side with Malfoy will be long for this world."

Delighting in her turmoil, he fucked her harder and savagely bit down on her neck. She jumped, startled by both the fiery pain shooting through her body as well as the surprise of the unexpected action. He was trying to mark her. With bated breath, she held still and took his abuse, hoping her compliance would make him spare her babies.

"You will accept me as your alpha and do as I command?"

He was asserting his dominance as alpha, giving her little choice. She had to submit or risk having her throat torn open or her sons harmed.

"Yes," she whispered, keeping her head down and eyes lowered, like the omegas at Bleidd.

"You will submit to me in all matters?"

When she was slow to respond he brought his hand within her line of sight and readied himself to snap his fingers.

"Yes," she cried out. "Just, please don't hurt my babies."

Pleased with her submission, or how broken she sounded, Fenrir bit into her a little harder making her whimper in pain despite her resolve not to show him how much it hurt. He sped up his movements, forcing his cock all the way inside her battered passage before finally climaxing inside her.

* * *

Fenrir had raped her and dumped his cum inside her two more times before he finally left. Hermione did not care. She had stopped caring at some point, her only concern now the wellbeing of her sons.

House-elves were known to be good with babies. She hoped Fenrir's elf was taking good care of her sons. Her heart ached when she thought of Wilbur's angelic face and Martin's angry pout. She hoped Fenrir had used elf magic to bring them here, as travelling by portkey was considered unsafe for infants.

It was hard to know how much time had passed since Fenrir left but at some point, she noticed food placed on the ground near her head. Still bound, she could only feed by sticking her face into the bowl like an animal. However degrading the position, she needed to eat to get her strength up. The food was too little and too watery, which was probably a good thing. She wasn't too keen about lying in her own faeces until the next time Fenrir showed up to fuck her.

The food must have contained either the Fero or some type of lust potion going by her body's responses. She curled into a ball and grit her teeth, determined to fight off the feeling. Raping her was one thing, but Fenrir made a huge mistake when he threatened her babies. Never before did Hermione desire to end anyone's life the way she wished to end Fenrir's now.

With the twins gone, Draco had to suspect something was wrong and would come for them soon enough. Hermione could not wait for him to show up. And when he did, together, they would rip Fenrir Greyback apart.


	22. Chapter 22

"Ah, young Draco! It's been ages since we last set eyes on you. I must say you're looking a whole lot better than the last time we saw you."

"Looking a whole lot _whole_ too compared to the last time," added Bellatrix with a snicker.

"Ah-ah, Bella, don't be rude. He's your family after all."

Normally, Bellatrix looked about as different from her sister, Narcissa, as night from day. Yet when the dark haired witch stared down her nose at Draco with a pinched look on her face as if she had smelled a rat, Draco was reminded of the one member of his previous family he still cared about.

He looked around, as discretely as possible, hoping to catch a glimpse of his mother. She was the only part of his former life he truly missed anymore. It mattered little to him that in all this time she had made no attempt to keep in touch. She was still his mother. Right up to the point he had joined the Death Eaters, Narcissa had done her best to shelter him. She had been his champion throughout the years and the only person who dared to try to intervene when the Dark Lord ordered his followers to turn his body into tenderised meat and throw him to the werewolves. But even if she had turned her back on him like everyone else that night, Draco could not willingly distance himself from her emotionally the way he had Lucius.

Like most young boys, growing up, Draco had idolised his father. He desired to become a powerful and influential wizard like Lucius one day. However, where he had felt a sense of duty towards Lucius, he had loved his mother. His mother who was always there to cheer him up with a boxful of his favourite treats anytime he was upset; who would tuck him in at night and read him tales long after his father had deemed him too old for such things; who patched up his battered ego with her kind words anytime he lost in a quidditch match to Potter or got outdone in yet another test by the 'Mudblood'; who always snuck into his bedroom late at night to apply healing salves to his wounds after his father was done disciplining him. No, no matter the years apart and what Hermione had said of her treatment of Ginny, Neville and whoever else, it mattered little to Draco. He still cared about his mother.

Draco tried to suppress his disappointment when several visual sweeps of the room confirmed his mother was not present. Lucius was also absent, which could be a good thing... or not.

He did his best to tune out the discussion going on about him. He had spent enough time around the Dark Lord and the Death Eaters to see through their attempts to bait him. He was smart enough to accept his own limitations and recognise that a direct fight with Voldemort was not in the cards for him, he just needed to survive whatever was coming next. Therefore, ignoring protests from his wolf Draco assumed a submissive pose, eyes lowered and mouth shut, as the people around him tried to taunt him to action.

"—Draco as a wolf. Wouldn't you like to see just what kind of creature your nephew turns into?"  
Draco's attention was drawn to the conversation again. Were they planning a visit to Bleidd during the full moon? Unlikely.

"Lord, please do not insult me by suggesting this filthy beast has any connection with my family. The only thing I want to see of him, are his insides as he bleeds."

Voldemort steepled his fingers beneath his chin feigning deep thought before he smiled indulgently. "I don't see why you can't get your wish. If I recall correctly you never did visit Wolf Castle to see any of the experiments we did on his kind—quite resilient that lot, strong. You could play with one of them for days without healing them before they finally dropped dead."

Bellatrix's eyes twinkled with mischief when she looked up at Voldemort. "Really, my Lord?"

"Of course, pet. It was unfair of me to leave you out of all the fun. What better way to make it up to you than letting you extract your pound of flesh from one who's brought much disgrace to your noble family? I originally planned to make young Draco publically fornicate with the Mudblood during the full moon. It would've helped the people see the Mudbloods for the sub-humans they are. More importantly, it would've knocked the smugness out of Potter by showing him that the _brains_ of the Order is barely better than a bitch for one of my dogs... However, thanks to someone's negligence"—his red eyes bored into Draco, looking more sinister than usual—"I'm a prisoner short and in need of a main event for tomorrow's revel. Instead of having to stomach the sight of beasts rutting, I entrust you with the task of entertaining us by testing the limits of Draco's new abilities."

* * *

Draco blinked his eyes open. His mouth was dry and his body hurt. _Nothing new there_. It took him a few seconds to remember where he was as he pulled on the chains that had him bound and hanging from the low ceiling of his prison cell. A sliver of moonlight filtered into his cell through an opening outside his range of vision. From the angle of the shadows, he could not have been unconscious for more than a few hours.

_Guess I recovered a lot quicker this round._

His punishment had begun soon after his audience with Voldemort the previous evening. The Death Eaters took turns cursing him. They started with the standard Imperio but once they realised how ineffective it was on him they moved on to the Cruciatus. Some would amused themselves by throwing a tickling or leg-locking charm in the midst of a crucio, but they kept the curses coming until he passed out from the pain. Each time he woke up bound in heavy metal chains in the same prison cell, and then it would begin all over again. Bad as it had been, the worst was not over yet. A chill ran down his spine. His aunt and the Dark Lord had yet to turn their wands on him.

Something niggled at Draco whenever he was awake. Having spent his time either unconscious or getting tortured, he could not pinpoint what it was exactly. There was just a general sense of something being terribly off. In his worry, his thoughts immediately turned to his mate and his sons.

_I just need to survive the revel, and then I can return to my family. _

_You could fight, _insisted his wolf, but fighting the Dark Lord and escaping from the Ministry was not an option. They would go after his pups if he escaped or fought back in any way.

_I just have to endure whatever the Noseless One has planned for me. _

Draco did not dodge or fend off any of the curses thrown at him, knowing the sadists in the crowd would grow bored if attacking him was no better than hitting an inanimate target. The lack of sport inspired a few Death Eaters to become more creative with their cruelty in order to get a reaction out of him. He suffered more serious injuries and greater pain, but conveniently, it also resulted in him being knocked unconscious far more quickly than the Death Eaters would have liked. As a werewolf, he possessed remarkable healing abilities. The respite offered to him during the times he was passed out gave his body the time it needed to repair itself. It was a painful process but it was currently the best strategy he had to conserve his energy. It was going to take all his strength to make it through the full moon, given that his aunt had already expressed her desire to see his insides and watch him bleed.

* * *

Once more Draco awoke with that unsettling feeling of something being wrong. Yes, his body hurt from the abuses he had suffered but something was different this time. That persisting sense of something being off was accompanied by a hollow ache in his chest that could not have been caused by any of the curses he had been subjected to.

What could be causing him to feel this way? He surveyed his surroundings for clues.

Having visited the place often enough over the years, initially in his capacity Theo's friend and as a Death Eater after their fallout, he recognised the grand hall of Nott Mansion the instant he opened his eyes. The assembled Death Eaters wore their black robes and silver masks. None of them showed any kind of interest in him even though he lay on the floor in the centre of the hall.

He looked around him. There was no sign of Voldemort and his inner circle, and nothing that could explain the uneasy feeling gnawing away at his gut.

Draco closed his eyes and took a couple of deep breaths. The last round of curses had been particularly painful. The Death Eaters had finally caught on to his plan and changed tactics, drawing out his torment with curses that were just painful enough to leave his mind alert and his body writhing in agony. The last session had gone on for so long, when he did eventually pass out, he was unable to recover sufficiently from the resulting injuries. Eyes closed, he focused on his breathing, willing his magic to heal his broken body, but he wasn't as good with casting wandless healing spells as he was with offensive magic spells.

_Luna, help me. Give me just enough strength to see me through the night._

* * *

[TRIGGER WARNING]

Draco found himself immobilised, not to prevent an escape rather to prevent any sudden movements on his part. The French windows running the length of one side of the grand hall offered a clear view of the outside. Moonrise was hours away, but inside the mansion the festivities were already in full swing. For a long time the revellers ignored Draco, who remained positioned in the centre of the hall on his knees, suspended by his arms. Occasionally someone would throw a hex his way, nothing serious, just the kind of thing needed to keep him awake.

He could still move his head so he was able to see what was happening around him. Half a dozen Halfblood prisoners were raped and some Muggle-looking individuals were tortured and then killed. That was not to be his fate today. They only meant to terrorise him by making him watch. Little did they know he had felt greater terror watching their sick games when he sat amongst them than he did in his current state of vulnerability.

Draco had managed to tune out the sight and sounds of the grotesque tableau that surrounded him to concentrate instead on the source of that uneasy feeling he had experienced intermittently since the previous day.

_What is it? What's wrong?_

_Something missing..._

_Someone in—_

Draco's thoughts were cut off by a sudden burst of pain from someone stabbing him in the tailbone. He howled, but they had cast a Silencio on him at some point so his cry went unheard.

"Oh my, a knife, Bella... isn't that a bit _Muggle_?"

Voldemort's mocking tone rang clear through the fog of Draco's pain.

"I beg to differ, my Lord," Bellatrix's voice came from immediately behind Draco. "Why waste magic on beasts? Besides, since he belonged to my family, I figured the situation demanded a more _personal_ touch."

"You're going to get your hands dirty, pet," Voldemort declared from his throne-like seat. Draco had to crane his neck a good deal to catch a glimpse of him.

"It's for a good cause, my Lord," claimed Bellatrix.

"Which is?"

"To entertain you, of course," she stated with childish simplicity.

Draco felt the knife slice through skin and sinew up the length of his spine. He screamed again in silence as the knife cut across his back.

Until now, Draco had rated the Sectumsempra from Potter and the night he was turned as being his most painful experiences. But the way Bellatrix had started things off, he feared he was to undergo his worst experience yet.

Whatever it was that Bellatrix had done to his back, it was shocking by even Death Eater standards if the stunned expressions and whispered mutterings of the revellers was anything to go by.

"Look at that!"

"Not her first time with a knife, for sure."

"—can see his spine, ribs and all."

"That is some _clean_ knife work."

"Mmhmm. Haven't seen such skilful cuts even with a slicing spell."

"What in Hades! What's she planning to do with the axe?"

"Now, now, pet. You don't want to end the fun too soon by using an axe on him," chided Voldemort gently.

The words barely registered before he was screeching in silent agony as what had to be the axe connected with his back. Before he could recover, there was another blow, close to the first but on the other side of his spine.

"I'm not sure where you're going with this, Bella," Voldemort noted in a neutral tone, "but it's definitely different from the usual."

"Just you watch, my Lord. I plan to impress you with my handiwork before the night is over."

Two more blows, similar to the previous ones, were delivered slightly higher up his back. This time the pain was so intense, mercifully, he passed out.

He must have woken up in the next instant because everyone appeared to be in nearly the exact same positions as before.

"I thought you said they were tough, my Lord," whinged Bellatrix.

"He's still alive, isn't he?"

"Yes, but I had to stop just to rennervate him."

"Don't pout, Bella. You know this is more than you could do to a Muggle or Wizard."

There was a burning sensation in his back, like a thousand tiny needles raking his flesh all at once. Draco tried to twist away from whatever Bellatrix was now doing to him, but he could not break free of the spell holding him frozen in place.

"Are you literally applying salt on his wounds, Bella?" asked an amused sounding Voldemort resting on the edge of his seat.

Bellatrix responded with a hearty, "YES!" Adding, "But there is also a practical purpose, my Lord. See—he's more alert now."

It was true. The fiery pain was keeping him awake and making him more aware of the throbbing pain in his back. Over the next few minutes, which felt like an eternity to Draco, Bellatrix worked quickly, alternating between using her axe and salting his wounds. All other activity around them had come to a standstill by now, all eyes in the grand hall riveted to the show being put on by Bellatrix. When she paused for breath, in the ensuing silence Draco heard her sigh, which was followed by awestruck whispers from some of the Death Eaters.

"She's severed every rib from his spine!"

"—never seen anything like it."

"I've never even _heard _of anything like this."

"It's almost pretty... in a gory way."

"...like he has wings."

He had expected his punishment to be horrible but with moonrise mere minutes away and transformations being as painful as they were, he was beginning to doubt he would make it out alive.

_No! This can't be how it all ends._

Instead of dwelling on the pain, he allowed his mind to retreat to the safety of his memories, one in particular.

It was a warm afternoon. Draco spotted Hermione sitting under the cool shade of a tree in the courtyard. Wilbur was cradled in her arms and Martin lay in the bassinet, both infants peacefully asleep. Hermione herself looked drowsy. She happened to look up and see him. He watched her sleepy eyes open and the corners of her mouth turn upwards to greet him with a warm smile that made his heart do a little flip in his chest.

Draco desperately clung to that image of his family as Bellatrix tugged on another one of his organs.

"Bloody fuck!"

"She just—she just—"

"His lungs—fuck! Are those his lungs?"

"Watch. Just shut your mouth and watch. She isn't cutting them."

"Those are his fucking lungs she's tearing out!"

"No, she's just repositioning them... I think."

The whispers were silenced by the sound of Voldemort speaking.

"Bella, I can't decide if you've had some secret Healer training or if you've been moonlighting as a butcher. I refuse to believe this is your first time," commented Voldemort.

"I may have practiced on some animals... Maybe that's why it's so easy with him. He's also just an animal now, isn't he?"

Voldemort hummed in approval.

"There," said Bellatrix with pride in her voice.

"Do you have a name for it?"

"Not really, but with his lungs and ribs spread out on his back like that, don't they remind you of wings? I think he looks like a slimy bloody bird," she said. After a brief pause she screeched, "A _bloody_ _owl_."

"Yes, you're right. And the name does have a certain ring to it."

"Ooh, moon's out. We'll now get to watch an owl turn into a wolf," Bellatrix giggled.

Draco, who was only awake due to the salt burning his wounds, struggled to draw in breath thanks to whatever the fuck Bellatrix had done to his lungs. He could feel the transformation come on—. Thank Luna!—unlike other members of his pack, his were usually swift. When he changed, the immobilising and silencing spells faded away. All at once, Draco's mutilated body hit the ground in his wolf form, but with his life force rapidly draining away, all that left his lips was a quiet whimper.

"Ugh! That was an anti-climax," said Bellatrix, making a moue of disgust before she moved away.

Once Bellatrix was gone, a few masked Death Eaters finally dared to approach Draco for a closer look.

"Show's over, I guess."

"Absolutely. No fun in watching the slow death of a wounded dog."

"You think he's gonna die?"

"Can't say for sure, their kind are pretty strong."

"The Dark Lord would've killed him if they wanted him dead. This was just playing."

"Yeah. Someone will fix him up, just like last time."

"Did they really fix him up last time?"

"Sure. How else would he still be alive if they didn't?"

"I heard Narcissa Malfoy had a hand in it."

"Well, she's not here tonight."

"Heard that was on purpose."

"The Dark Lord?"

"No, Bellatrix. Didn't want anyone spoiling her fun."

"That witch is _crazy_."

"I'm just glad she's on our side."

"Tell her that. Ever fought beside her in battle? She doesn't care who she hits."

"Careful, you fool. Don't know who could hear and report you."

"Mmhmm. Trust our side even lesser than I do the other, these days."

The crowd having grown bored of watching the dying wolf moved on to other activities while Draco lay there, stuck somewhere between the living and the dead.

* * *

AN: While it may feel gratuitous right now, there is a point to all these scenes of rape and torture (which you will see in later chapters).


	23. Chapter 23

"Your body is pathetically weak, but you'd still make a good wolf."

Hermione ignored Fenrir, continuing to grit her teeth and resist the urge to touch either herself or Fenrir. It was harder now that her hands were finally free. She still horny but a part of her brain, now free from the effects of the potion last fed to her hours earlier, reminded her that it wasn't Fenrir she wanted. She tried to distract herself by rubbing at her wrists and arms to improve the blood circulation in them after all the time they had been bound. Touching herself, even her wrists, felt so good she was tempted to touch other parts of her or better yet reach out to the half naked male across from her, a part of her wanting nothing more than to ride the cock of the male across from her.

_No, not **him**!_

It was hard to think clearly through the lust but that annoying voice in her head insisted he wasn't the right one. This male- _Fenrir _her brain supplied- was bad. She longed for, ached even, for another. She struggled to remember who it was, but couldn't. She was just too damned weak and tired and horny to keep all her thoughts straight. In that moment all Hermione wanted was a good hard fuck followed by a week of doing nothing but sleep. Her stomach twisted painfully, reminding her that sometime between the fucking and sleeping she needed to eat as well.

_No!_

No, Hermione remembered groggily. She needed to escape, get away. The full moon would be out soon and that would be dangerous for her. She couldn't remember why just then only that it was important for her to get away.

"The Dark Lord wanted me to turn you and bring you to him tonight. They're having some fun with Draco" -Hermione's ears perked up at the name, her heart beating a little faster as she remembered soft grey eyes and a smirk- "and wanted to bring you in to add to the festivities. But, I have my own plans. Plans that will serve me better."

Fenrir leaned back against the wall, closed his eyes and sniffed at the air. She was sure he could smell her arousal. It was pretty hard to miss and with his werewolf senses impossible to ignore.

He reached down, pushing past the waistband of his pants, and gripped his cock. He opened his eyes and, having caught her staring, smiled at her as he began to slowly stroke himself. A long sheath covered his cock, a red tip emerging as he squeezed and pulled at it. As his fingers worked their way around his shaft it began to swell and slide free of the sheath drawing a moan of pleasure from his lips.

"I'm bored of Bleidd. Don't get me wrong, it was great when it was just us but now the place is practically crawling with Death Eaters and Black Cloaks. Not a problem in itself, mind - wouldn't be a problem at all if those arseholes learnt to show some respect. I mean, I'm the alpha of the biggest, no" -he shook his head- "the _only_ pack left in Great Britain and I'm one of the Dark Lord's most trusted followers. But those fucking cunts still act like they're better than me!"

Fenrir let out an angry growl before he closed his eyes and inhaled noisily. He turned his attention back to his cock, stroking it till his breathing sounded normal again.

"I'm wasting my time with that lot. I need a fresh start, my own lands... This place is perfect. The locals are neutral in the war, though the Dark Lord is trying to woo them to his side with the fertility potion but it's a lost cause, it is. See, the people here are bloody skilled when it comes to magic- they haven't needed wands to cast spells since Merlin walked among us- but completely retarded in other ways. They have no Ministry or anything like that, just a bunch of tribes scattered around the country, each led by their own leader. Not that different from what it was like with the _weres_ before the Pack Wars... As things stand, it'll be tough for any outsider to make a go at an alliance with the whole of their magical community- which means no snooty Death Eaters or pesky Order members running around." The last sentence was said with a smile that reached all the way to his eyes.

"The Imperius is good as useless on the locals; Nott and his teams found that out first hand. So fancy pants Malfoy suggested they give diplomacy a try. That's when they thought to offer the fertility potion- turns out there's been a fall in the number of magical folk the world over. This here" -Fenrir pointed to the structure they stood within- "is the only Death Eater base built in the country so far. The Dark Lord thinks long term, so he likes to go after the schools- catch 'em young and all that. This spot was picked for the base because of its proximity to Uagadou. Catch a look at the Mountains of the Moon on our way in, did you? They're quite the sight.

"Anyway, they don't have werewolves in this part of the world. Not sure if it's in the entire continent or just the country itself. But, they don't and the locals were quite taken with me and what I could do... From everything I've seen so far I believe the pack would be welcomed in this land. We could have everything here that we couldn't in Britain or anywhere else in Europe. Once the pack moved here, we could make this place the new Wolf Castle or Wolf _Manor_? The name can be worked out later, but this could become our home. And we could all make a new and better life for ourselves here. We could rule this land."

Hermione blinked a few times as she continued to stare at the hypnotic movement of the large male stroking his cock. The sane part of her told her she needed to pay attention to what he was saying, listen to the clues she was given to her whereabouts but it was too hard to focus. She licked her cracked lips in nervous anticipation as the bulbous head of his cock peeked through his fingers.

_No, bad man!_

No, the voice was right. Fenrir was a bad man. He hurt her, forced her. She didn't want him, or this.

Hermione's stomach grumbled noisily.

"Sounds like you're hungry. The elf hasn't been feeding you properly, has it? Guess its loyalty goes only as far as me and the pups. Does that mean we've succeeded in breaking the bond or wasn't there enough for it to feel bound to you to start with? Hmmm... Won't matter either way in a few hours," he said cryptically.

"Well, I suppose I should feed you if I want you to survive the transformation," said Fenrir before he walked away leaving Hermione alone in the cellar.

Seeing the door left wide open behind him Hermione thought to take advantage to make her escape. However in her pitiful state she couldn't even make it to the base of the stairs before Fenrir had returned carrying something mouth-watering with him. He held a piece of juicy looking steak in one hand and a vial of cloudy looking potion in the other. He extended the potion to her first. The message was clear; she couldn't have one without the other. She was too hungry and thirsty to care about the contents of the vial. She would have snatched the vial from his hand and greedily swallowed its contents even if she had not recognised it as a potent health and healing potion. The way she saw it, he'd already done his worst to her.

It took a few minutes before she felt better than she had since Fenrir abducted her but was disappointed when instead of handing her the meat as expected he turned his back on her and began to walk away.

"Come on, let's go. You can enjoy this outside," he said calling out to her.

The smell of the bloody piece of steak overpowered her senses to the point where all Hermione could think of was eating it. All thoughts of fighting or escaping fleeing her mind she blindly followed Fenrir as he led her out of the cellar and outside the building that had been her prison the past few days.

Soon as they exited the little fortress Fenrir turned around and gave Hermione the piece of meat. Even though it was rawer than she normally preferred her meat she wasted no time before she began wolfing it down. She stayed hunched possessively over it as she ate like an animal afraid of having its meal snatched away before it was done.

"You know I could take good care of you. Life could go back to the easy way it was back at Bleidd. I'll bite you once the moon is out and all you need to do is accept me as your alpha once you turn. As your alpha I'd keep you safe and well fed. I'll keep your belly full in other ways too, but you'd be pack and you'd be taken care of for the rest of your life."

When he was done talking he held out another piece of meat for her. Impossibly, this one smelled even more delicious than the last. Fenrir sat completely naked on the ground and gestured for her to sit near him. Only once she was seated did he hand her the second steak piece.

Fenrir resumed speaking while she ate.

"There are some who've questioned my authority and ability to lead the pack just because I haven't sired any children all these years - Draco's one jammy bastard, always been... lucky to be born a Malfoy and lucky again to be the first to drop his seed in your fertile womb. Who knew you'd actually end up pregnant, eh? We all thought you'd be a chew toy we could play with for a few hours before we ate you. Oh yes, we did. Yet here you are... But, know what? No one'll question my authority once I put my pups in you. They'll respect me again."

Fenrir fell quiet. Eyes closed, he rubbed at his chest. He sighed heavily a few times.

"Just getting rid of Draco won't be enough to win them back. I didn't realise till they came and spoke with me just how weak the bonds have become. I've been so busy trying to win favour with the Dark Lord I haven't paid attention to the pack. And, somehow I forgot what it was like before... The loneliness, the madness, the violence... Oh, I love violence but it was different back then- like I was as angry with myself as I was with everyone else. With the pack I found the piece of my mind I'd lost. I don't ever want to be feral like that again.

"I'm not going to let Draco, or anyone else, steal the pack from me. I need them just as much as they need me. But I see that this time just defeating or killing the competition won't be enough. I've got to show them I'm capable of bringing new blood into the pack. And you're the key to my doing that. Once you're knocked up every one of them will follow me. And with the pack at my side I could gain power with the locals too... could even turn some of them. Once I control them I could choose to become an ally of the Dark Lord or just rule here."

Now that her stomach was full after being starved the past few days and her injuries healed, Hermione's body struggled to stay awake. Lulled by Greyback's soft tone and her gaze lingering on the sprawling mountains, partially hidden by clouds and now bathed in moonlight, she didn't see the man behind her make his transformation into a beast. By the time she felt his hot breath on her neck it was already too late.

The creature's canine fangs sank into her flesh, easily breaking through her skin. The bite was followed by an explosion of pain in her neck- it felt nothing like the time Draco bit her or even Fenrir's own bite when he raped her, this was so much worse. It felt like a raging fire was blazing its way through her veins, burning her blood to dust, scorching and charring her body from the inside out. Overwhelmed by the pain, Hermione remained frozen for what felt like an eternity before she tried to dislodge the brute's teeth. Her attempt to twist away from him resulted in the beast tearing a chunk of flesh from her shoulder.

Hermione screamed in pain but the sound coming out of her mouth was nothing like her own vocals, replaced by something other worldly instead. She sprawled on the ground panting, struggling to draw air into her lungs. But none of her organs were working as normal.

Hair began to sprout over her body, starting from above her sex to along her stomach and up over her chest, coming out thicker over her back. Her rounded ears elongated and turned triangular, the tips still hidden by her gradually receding wild mane of hair. Hermione's tongue swelled and grew till it hung free from her mouth, her lips began to blacken and swell, and fur raced up from her jaw to cover her cheeks and chin. She felt her eyelids change, unaware that her normally brown eyes now sported a golden hue. The heat blooming in her body was nearly unbearable. Her sex pulsed and swelled to expose slick inner lips, the region demanding immediate stimulation.

Hermione hunched slightly, panting, torn between the pain of the transformation and a burgeoning libido. It felt like she was losing control of both mind and body. She whined as her modestly sized breasts flattened. New muscles grew on her chest and over the rest of her body. Bones shifted and cracked, skin stretching as her face lengthened. She arched her back in agony as the bones and muscles at the base of her spine grew and shifted till a tail slid between her bare arse cheeks. Hard, sharp black points pressed through the tips of her fingers, cut through skin and nail as her claws came in. Her hands lengthened, thumbs shortened and the little finger on each hand turned into a dewclaw.

Even through the excruciating pain her gradually changing nose picked up a smell that made her frown. The scent of her sweat and other fluids clung to her but there was something else, a sharp, foul scent that overpowered all other scents even in the open space. She grimaced, almost cutting her lips on the slightly sharpened canine teeth that now jutted out of her mouth.

Her newly formed muzzle sniffed the air trying to identify the source of the unpleasant scent. It was coming from between the legs of the creature before her- the scent was concentrated around his genitals. Sweat beaded along her back, dark fur sprouting between her shoulder blades. She groaned quietly, eyes downcast at the odd sensation. A sudden, intense heat spread through her body, radiating from deep in her belly to down between her legs. The human part of her recognised the effects of the lust potion- the meat she had feasted on minutes ago had been tainted.

She could feel the bare sweaty skin of her body get rapidly covered by a coat of fur. She accidentally dug her claws into her throat while trying to relieve the tightness there as her transformation continued. Hermione got to her feet on legs still partially human. Her thigh muscles bulged and grew denser, her legs covered in tufts of dark fur. She growled as bones cracked and popped, new joints developing and forcing her to the balls of her now widened feet. The padding on the soles of her feet thickened and bloody claws scraped at the earth when her paws finished growing.

She dropped to all fours letting out a startled yelp at the sensation of her newly formed bushy tail sliding against her exposed, engorged pussy lips. Hermione threw her head back letting out a howl of pain and lust which deepened into a bestial roar. Hearing other creatures deep in the forest beyond respond to her howl all human thoughts faded away, replaced with base instincts.

_Hunt, kill, eat, fuck, howl-_

Hermione's mind struggled to hold its own against the beast she was turning into. She wanted to hunt and kill, but above all that she wanted to find her mate and have him fuck this damn itch out of her system.

The male beside her pressed a paw over her back attempting to mount her. Snarling, Hermione turned and easily shook him off her. She swiped a claw contemptuously across his face, cutting him; if he survived tonight she hoped she could at least leave him scarred.

The other wolf stepped back, in shock. Intuitively, she knew that as her sire she was his to command and she was expected to submit. _No_, she roared defiantly, unable to articulate the word with her new vocal chords but her intent clearly communicated nevertheless. The she-wolf angrily launched herself at the male, but now he was ready for her. The two wolves tumbled to the ground as they fought, snapping, biting and clawing at each other. There was no way she would ever submit to him. This unworthy male had captured her, separated her from her mate, forced his seed into her and worst of all threatened her pups. He had to die.

The she-wolf was still weak from the abuse she'd suffered in captivity, yet she remained evenly matched with the male wolf who fought off her attacks with every ounce of his experience and strength. Having undergone her first transformation she was quickly getting exhausted, but she was also growing angrier the longer they wrestled without her landing any fatal hits.

In her rage and quest for vengeance Hermione's mind slipped further, surrendering completely to her animal urges. She became careless, her efforts now solely concentrated on hurting the male. She snapped her jaws aggressively and repeatedly attacked head first- no longer bothering to protect her flank or other vulnerable parts- making sure she tore away chunks of his flesh each time. He rose up to strike her with both paws held out. His dominating stance along with his sharp claws would've struck fear in her human heart, but she was no longer human. And she had no plans to yield to anyone ever again. With that thought in mind she recklessly charged at him, leaping forward with jaws open, going straight for his soft throat.

Soon as the she-wolf's powerful jaws clamped around the male's throat, she tugged. In her moment of triumph she was numb to the pain of the injuries caused by his claws tearing into her soft belly; she only felt satisfaction course through her when she finally tasted the blood bubbling in his throat. However she had underestimated the strength of the alpha or the extent of her own injuries because the wolf managed to push her off him.

She geared herself for another round of fighting but felt dizzy. She watched the blood flow freely from her wounds and then looked to the male who had already turned tail and taken off. She needed to attend to her wounds or risk bleeding to death, but she didn't care. '

_Hunt, kill, hunt, kill, hunt- _was the refrain stuck in her head.

Unable to see him anymore, she blinked her eyes trying to remember which way the male had taken off. She couldn't understand how he had vanished into thin air. She closed her eyes trying to sniff him out but couldn't smell him over the scent of her own rapidly spilling blood.

Although changed, the she-wolf still possessed a sharp wit. Getting healed would have to take priority over her vengeance. Once she was back to full strength she'd deal with her sire as well as everyone else that had ever dared to hurt her or one of her own. She envisioned an army of werewolves following her into battle and destroying everyone who stood in her path. The land of her enemies would turn red with their blood by the time she was done conquering it.

Seeing nothing other than the mountains before her, she went that way in search of help.

* * *

Pain. Agonising pain running through his whole body was the only thing Draco was aware of when he finally woke to a churning stomach. He was disoriented at first, believing he was once again experiencing nightmares about the night he was turned but only once his mind registered the strange surroundings did he recall his most recent nightmarish ordeal.

He gasped for air, his body aching as he sat up. The foul taste of skele-gro strong in his mouth he rolled over to the side of the bed and began to vomit, the sound of it splattering to the floor lost over the sounds of his continued retching. His entire body heaved, the motion jerked and jarred freshly healing wounds causing the clots and calluses formed to stretch till he winced from the fresh hurt.

The throbbing pain in his back was a reminder of what he had suffered at the hands of his own aunt. By the time Bellatrix had finished with him death had felt like a certainty. Draco hugged himself remembering how alone and hopeless he'd felt in those last moments. He didn't even realise he was crying till he tasted the tears streaming down his face. It felt like hours had passed by the time he finished. Eyes swollen red, bile and spittle on his mouth, snot dripping from his nose, he mentally thanked Luna and whoever had taken pity on him and fixed him up.

"Oh, Draco!"

He looked up at the sound of a feminine voice. Pansy and Theo rushed to his side.

"It's going to be alright, mate," said Theo, grabbing a clean towel from somewhere and handing it to Draco.

Draco used the towel to wipe his eyes and mouth clean before handing it back to Theo who now held a glass of water for him to drink. He accepted it with a nod of thanks and sipped on it slowly, enjoying its refreshing taste.

Pansy fussed over Draco. She propped his pillows, tucked the sheets, made the room warmer and then cooler again. Looking at him she shook her head and tutted. "I knew it was bad but this was just..._horrid_. How could Bella..." She stopped, bit her tongue and shook her head again.

Instead of finishing what she was going to say she sat beside him on the bed and used her fingers to groom his hair and ran a hand over his bare chest. Draco didn't object as it was clear she only meant to comfort him with her touch. He leaned in as she wrapped her arms around his shoulders, pulling his head down onto her bosom.

"How long?" he finally managed to ask.

"Three days," replied Theo. He was seated at the foot of the bed.

Draco nodded and looked around, taking in his surroundings.

Theo noticed and supplied an answer to the unanswered question. "It's one of the servants' quarters in my home- closer to the dungeon, which is probably where they were expecting me to put you."

Draco nodded again. There were questions he needed to ask but he was too exhausted right now. Still, he managed to ask the most important one.

"Why?"

"After everything we've been through together? How could you think we wouldn't help you if we could?" Pansy spoke softly from beside him. She sounded angry.

"They'd moved on to other _entertainment_ once you passed out," informed Theo. "No one seemed to care anymore. So I asked if I could move you and the Dark Lord didn't object. I brought you to this room and then we tried to fix you as best we could."

"We almost lost you, Draco," said Pansy with tears in her eyes. She pressed her lips against his hairline. "I was so scared. I don't care if you're a werewolf. You're one of my oldest friends and watching what was done... Watching you..." She trailed off, making a swallowing sound.

"It was hard to watch- both, during and after. Neither one of us is proficient with advanced healing spells so we had to get some help... It was a really close call, Draco." It was obvious to Draco that his old friend was feeling a little emotional as he spoke especially since he immediately tried to make light of the situation. "You must be part kneazle with the number of lives you have."

Draco smiled back at Theo's attempt at a joke, fresh tears threatening to spill from his eyes upon discovering what they'd done for him.

"This world is just unbearable. _This_ can't continue. _We _cannot continue like this."

Draco's body went a little stiff at Pansy's words and all they implied. While he didn't doubt his friends were genuinely shocked and upset over his injuries it was hard to accept that they'd be moved to the point of wanting to rock the boat. He hoped he wasn't being set up for some kind of trap.

Theo, who was watching Draco closely, noticed his expression change to a more guarded one.

"She isn't just saying it because of what happened to you. Both of us had already reached our breaking point long before this incident," explained Theo.

Draco looked at him, studying his old friend for any sign of duplicity.

"There was a reason I chose to take the Bleidd assignment. I wanted to come see you. There is much we need to discuss, Draco. But, right now you need to finish healing up."

"The healer has asked that we try feeding you solids today," said Pansy releasing her hold on Draco and slipping out of bed.

She snapped her fingers summoning an elf who arrived with a bowl of something warm. It didn't smell particularly appetising to Draco, who crinkled his nose and turned away.

"Try eating some of it. It was specially prepared for you. It's filled with nutrients that'll help you heal."

Though prepared differently from what he remembered something about the meal triggered childhood memories for Draco. He ate what was put before him quietly while pondering over what he'd learnt so far.


	24. Chapter 24

The she-wolf was torn between her rage and her need to mate even as she grew dizzy from blood loss. She had run for who knows how long without running into a single living creature. Sounds around her indicated there were other animals about, however they were too frightened to cross paths with her. She didn't need to see them quake to know they were afraid- the stench of their fear was unmistakable to her sensitive nose.

_Cowards_.

Her face twisted with disgust at these creatures too afraid to confront her even in her current state. Nevertheless, she would need to be careful; while they may keep their distance now they would surely be upon her as soon as she was down. So even though she needed to stop and attend to her injuries she kept moving forward in search of a safe haven.

The she-wolf wasn't sure how much longer she could hold on. Shortly after her fight with the grey wolf she attempted to heal herself by drawing on her magic, but she was far too weak and her injuries far too serious to fix herself. Some of her wounds had already begun to fester and she grew feverish as the infection set in.

Still, there was an unexpected flipside to her pain- it made her aware of her fragility which in turn served as a reminder of her human self, though her beast scoffed at the idea. The beast was confident she was invincible, insisting she run the other way to hunt down her sire, force his submission and then tear him limb for limb.

_Hunt, kill, hunt, kill, hunt, kill_-

She shook her head, trying to refocus her thoughts. Her humanity began to slip away when she thought about her sire- her entire being focused only on her need for revenge. So great was her bloodlust in those moments she couldn't even recall why her beast desired to harm her sire, only that she did. Pushing aside thoughts of vengeance, the she-wolf forged on. Even though she had yet to encounter a friendly face she was pleased to discover the entire region covered in a variety of potent medicinal herbs. She took several mouthfuls of centella, a plant famed in both the magical and Muggle realm for its healing properties.

There was a magical barrier that prevented her from moving further up the mountain so she struggled towards the outcropping of rocks she had noticed on the side. She hoped to find a dry and clean spot she could use as a temporary shelter and she was not disappointed. Hidden amongst the rocks was a gap that opened into a small cave. Thinking this place was good enough her knees finally gave out.

The she-wolf struggled to remain conscious knowing she had yet to heal herself. She spat out the centella and few other herbs she had been chewing the entire time in order to create a crude poultice for herself. With great difficulty she managed to get the paste into the worst of her injuries and then lay still directing the magic in her veins to knot the torn flesh together and stem the blood flow.

It was hard to remain calm and concentrate on healing herself when her primary desire was to hurt the one who had hurt her. Everything within her demanded she hunt him down and finish him. Her lips pulled back to display her deadly canines as she snarled at the nothingness before her.

* * *

_"Happy Birthday, Draco!_"

Draco drifted awake. Was it a memory or a dream, or a memory of a dream? With sleep heavy eyes he recalled watching his mother lovingly stroke his hair and smile down at him like she used to when he was a little boy- except, she looked so much older and about as weary as he felt. It had to have been a dream as his beautiful mother had yet to develop the worry lines around her eyes that were rather prominent in the dream. Draco let out a sigh before he closed his eyes and fell back asleep.

* * *

The she-wolf lay still having sensed another presence in the cave. She didn't move or do anything that would alert the intruder to her state of wakefulness. There was an incantation in a foreign tongue followed by brightness behind her closed eyelids. The intruder had most likely cast a lumos. While the person walked around her, inspecting her, she was aware of how delicious they smelled- like prey. If she had to guess she would say it was a small child. She was hungry, but could she risk opening her wounds by moving to attack the child?

She lay on the rock floor, unmoving, while the intruder satisfied their curiosity. She felt something prod her side- not enough to hurt but enough to draw her attention. She still didn't move or even open her eyes. The intruder repeatedly prodded her. Annoyed, she partially opened her eyes. The offending item was the end of a branch. Without lifting her head she pulled back her lips baring her sharp teeth and snarled.

The intruder was a young girl; startled by the discovery that the she-wolf wasn't asleep or dead, she yelped and stumbled backwards. She landed on her bum and stayed down, rubbing at the sore spot.

The two stared at each other for a whole minute- the young girl though apprehensive appeared to be obviously awestruck while the she-wolf continued to bare her teeth in an attempt to appear more ferocious than she felt in that moment. When it became too much of an effort to maintain the display of hostility the she-wolf dropped the act and simply observed the girl.

Sniffing fear on the child, the she-wolf shut her eyes. She was certain the girl wouldn't bother her again, which is why she was surprised when the child resumed prodding her sides with the branch. If it wasn't so taxing to move right then she would've torn the girl apart for her insolence alone.

She opened her eyes and let out a low growl of warning, but the child paid no heed- her eyes were fixed on the gash in her belly that still looked quite bad despite her attempts to heal it. It was severely infected but healing it was out of the range of her current abilities.

The girl prodded around the wound with the branch and appeared to be studying the she-wolf's responses. The girl's dark eyes sparkled with intelligence. It was uncertain if the girl had figured out exactly what was wrong with the she-wolf, but she must have concluded that her injuries were far too severe for the she-wolf to pose any serious threat to her.

The she-wolf drifted asleep and was woken up rudely by the sensation of someone prodding her sides once again. She opened her eyes to glare at the offender. The girl had returned, this time accompanied by two boys of a similar age. The three children stared at her for some time before they began an animated discussion among themselves.

The children appeared to be arguing among themselves- the girl and one of the boys was trying to convince the second boy of something. The she-wolf was sure she had never seen the trio before but something about them tugged at a distant memory that filled her with warmth and longing.

The girl must have won the argument because she turned to the she-wolf wearing a smug smile while her friend sulked. The second boy, the smallest of the three, had a determined look on his face. With his friends now watching him the boy closed his eyes and mumbled something before transforming into a little bird right before their eyes.

The bird was a pretty little thing that chirped something indecipherable as it flew circles around her head. The she-wolf was tempted to swap at it with her paw- slice its little wings with one of her claws- but it flew back to its friends before she could as much as twitch a muscle. Just as quickly as he changed into a bird he was transformed again into a boy. The children looked at the she-wolf and looked at the boy and then again stared pointedly at the she-wolf.

They believed she was like him. _Animagus_, the faint human side of her supplied.

The three held a bag in their hands. Reaching in, they pulled out a cauldron along with a variety of ingredients. One of the boys lit a fire and set the cauldron on top of it while the other boy chopped up the herbs. The girl was saying something to the she-wolf a she slowly approached her. While her words were foreign and unknown, the way the girl held out her hands conveyed that she meant no harm. If she could, the she-wolf would have made a meal of all three children, but in her current state she couldn't even lift her paw.

Once certain that the she-wolf wasn't going to pounce on her, the girl placed a hand above the worst of the she-wolf's injuries- the laceration on her stomach- closed her eyes and began chanting in her strange tongue. At the end of the chant, the poultice, dried blood and dirt fell away from the wound; the girl had cleaned the wound.

Meanwhile, the boys were busy preparing something in the cauldron. It wasn't clear what they were up to but the she-wolf wasn't particularly worried. If these children meant to hurt her at least death would be swifter. She closed her eyes and lay still allowing the children to go about whatever they were up to.

At several intervals the three children took turns saying strange incantations over the cauldron and it was some time before they appeared satisfied with whatever they had brewed in it. The she-wolf watched them siphon some of the contents into a bowl which they cautiously placed before her. Three eager dark faces nodded at the bowl directing the wolf to drink their concoction. She sniffed at the potion- while it was strange it didn't smell like anything harmful. Without taking her eyes off them, the she-wolf slowly lapped at the bowl till it was empty.

The girl was the first of the three to straighten up while her friends still remained stooped staring at the she-wolf's injuries expectantly. The girl turned and dragged her friends by their collars, waving to the she-wolf on her way out.

Within minutes the she-wolf began to feel the changes brought on by the potion. Most notably, she was no longer feverish. But, she was absolutely drained so she put her head back down and lost consciousness once more.

* * *

"Trust doesn't come easily for people like us, raised as we were. So before we discuss anything, here" -Theo held up a vial of silvery memories- "this should help you understand our motives."

Draco took the vial from Theo's hands and poured the memories into the penseive placed before him. He was joined by Theo as he entered the swirl of memories.

A man settled himself behind Pansy on the bed. His face wasn't visible yet but Draco had an idea of who it might be. The man shuffled about till he found a satisfactory position before his leathery old hands reached around to roughly grope Pansy's breasts.

"Hello Pansy. Did you miss me?" he asked in a taunting voice while he continued to molest her young flesh.

There was no mistaking the disgust on Pansy's face though she made sure to keep her face turned away from the man. She grimaced when his fingers forcefully pulled at and twisted her nipples, but she made no sound and held still even when it was clear the man was deliberately trying to cause her pain.

"Why so quiet, my dear wife? You know how I love you listen to your sweet moans," he mocked as he pinched the soft undersides of her breasts with his fingernails.

"Oh well, since you insist on remaining unresponsive during foreplay I'll just have to find other ways to make you scream."

Just before the memory faded the man drew his wand and directed several stinging and slicing hexes at her bare breasts and buttocks that left Pansy howling in pain.

"Why?" Draco asked Theo who stood beside him, his face an unreadable mask.

"That's my father for you," was all Theo said in response.

The next memory began with Pansy landing on the bed, the wind knocked out of her from the force of her fall. Her husband climbed between her thighs and positioned himself above Pansy. His fingers were between her legs stroking her dry lips. He appeared angry over her lack of arousal. Pansy's mouth was clamped shut and the look on her face said she was trying her best not to wince in pain. His hand painfully pinched her inner thigh when she flinched away from his fingers.

Finally, giving up on the foreplay, Pansy's husband spat on the entrance to her pussy and shoved his cock inside her unwilling body. The force of the thrust made her slide further up the bed and away from him so his hands clamped around her throat to hold her body in place. Her body bucked involuntarily almost throwing him off. He squeezed harder and only when she went limp under him did he loosen his grip on her neck.

"Come on, don't just lie there like a dead fish," he complained while thrusting into her.

Pansy raised her knees and wrapped her legs around his waist. It didn't look like she was doing it out of pleasure, more like fear of what he may do next if she didn't play along.

"You like that, don't you?" he whispered in a poor attempt at a husky voice. "You're just a slut, aren't you, Mrs. Nott?"

Pansy responded by widening her thighs further to accommodate him as he drilled into her. She was looking away from him while he continued to fuck her into the mattress.

"Fuck," he grunted. "You may be a Pureblood, but you're no better... Just another slut, like the rest of them."

Draco watched Pansy cower and close her eyes shut tight, tears leaking out of the corners. It was hard for him to believe Pansy would tolerate being treated so poorly. Growing up her father had indulged her to the extent even her friends had thought of her as a spoilt princess.

Theo spoke up, probably noticing the look of disbelief on his face.

"They're hard to watch, I know, but you need to see these. You may not believe what we have to say unless you see these and know what it's been like.

The memory faded from view as another played out.

"This one is older than the others," said Theo watching the scene unfold.

"I don't want to! It's one thing to marry that old hawk but you can't make me sleep with him!" Pansy screamed as a couple of Black Cloaks grabbed her by the waist and began to haul her over towards the bedroom. Pansy was physically so much smaller than each of the men that had her surrounded that there was no need to manhandle her if restraining her was all they wanted. However, from their expressions the men were clearly enjoying what they were doing.

Pansy was dragged to the bed and pinned to it using physical restraints while they went about tearing her clothes off her body. They made it a point to grope and fondle her as they did so, not even bothering to pretend like it was anything else.

"Stop that! What the hell do you think you're doing - How dare you touch me this way?" Pansy shouted at them, infuriated by their treatment. "Just give me the damn potion like you're meant to and leave! Arseholes."

"You're not really in a position to be giving any orders, princess," said one of the men mockingly using the term of endearment often used by her father when talking about Pansy.

"Besides, your dear husband doesn't care for any potion made by that Halfblood traitor, Snape. He'd rather use us to get you nice and wet for his cock."

"What! Lord Nott is aware of this?"

"Not just aware, princess, he commanded it. Thought a spoilt bitch like you could use a reminder of your proper place and purpose in this house."

Pansy screeched as the man roughly shoved three fingers inside her unprepared passage.

"Look, you've already got her screaming for you," said one of them to the man violating Pansy drawing peals of laughter from his peers. The memory sped up as different men used different objects on Pansy all in the name of priming her for intercourse with her husband. Though none of them used their own cocks each of them undoubtedly raped Pansy that day.

Draco felt sick to his stomach having witnessed what he did. He had watched his share of atrocities during his time as a Death Eater, but watching one of his friends get raped in her marital bed was especially upsetting. What was worse was that in the memories he saw none of the strong-willed, free-spirited girl who had been a bigger brat than him growing up.

"It's fucked up, Draco."

They were out of the memories now and Theo's usually guarded face was grief-stricken, appearing as upset as Draco felt.

"It's _all_ so severely fucked up. It's not just Pansy. Ever since they passed the Procreation Law it's no longer safe for any witch unless they're as twisted as Bellatrix. Though I never approved of the Dark Lord's methods I believed things would change for the better when he came in power.

"I thought the Death Eaters would lose their tribal nature- and with it their violence and brutality- once they were charged with governing the entire realm. It is only logical that an advanced civilization would steer towards a conflict free, peaceful society that favours intelligence and compassion over brute strength and ruthlessness.

"Instead it feels like we've been in a near constant state of war for the greater part of the last decade and I don't see things ever improving under current leadership. There are now a significant number of us who refuse to maintain the status quo. The reason Pansy shared these memories and the reason I came to see you at Bleidd is because we seek to make alliances."

* * *

From beyond the safety of her hideout the she-wolf observed the sunrays lazily creep into her sanctuary. As far as she could tell, this was her fifth day in the cave and already she could feel a marked improvement. The throbbing pain in her body had reduced to a dull ache and gone was the chill in her bones like her life force was leaking out of her. Pleased and surprised by her unexpected recovery she looked around taking a proper look at her surroundings. Noticing the remains of a fire and the cauldron placed above it, she remembered the three children and what they had done for her.

When she had entered the cave, a part of her had believed this would end up being her tomb. She had picked a spot where her carcass would not be ravaged by scavengers because she was certain she had kin out there who would want to find her and know what became of her. Each time she fell asleep in the cave she had done so thinking this would be the one she wouldn't wake from.

When the girl first showed up, the she-wolf had expected her to return with adults who would either exterminate or capture her; she never imagined the girl and her friends would heal her. The she-wolf was glad she'd been too weak to kill the girl during their first encounter or else she too would be dead by now.


	25. Chapter 25

"You cannot imagine how glad I am to see you again, brother." Gunnolf wrapped his muscular arms around Draco and crushed him to his chest, till he heard Draco wince in pain.

Gunnolf wore a sheepish look when he finally let go of the blond man. "Sorry, but you better brace yourself for a few more hugs like that welcoming you back home."

"So, you heard?" asked Draco.

"The better question is who didn't? The Death Eaters who attended were shocked enough to talk about it to anyone who cared to listen and with the Black Cloaks here being as chatty as they are the news was bound to reach us. Thankfully, we received news of your dreadful ordeal along with news of your recovery; otherwise I can't say how the pack would've reacted. It was most peculiar..." Gunnolf trailed off. He appeared thoughtful for a moment or two, and then gave his head a little shake. "Come on," he said, "I'm sure you must be eager to see your pups."

Draco nodded, feeling relieved. During his recovery he had been plagued with worries about Hermione and his pups. While he had no way to check on Hermione, he could at least do so for the twins. As soon as he was cleared for travel Draco begged his friends to let him return to Bleidd to check on his sons himself.

"They're okay?" he asked wishing to confirm it even if he knew the pups would never face any harm while they remained under the protection of the pack.

"Yes, of course... but something odd did occur in your absence that I need to report to you."

Gunnolf was unaware he was walking a little behind Draco instead of beside or in front of him like he usually did. But, as was common with their kind, Draco was far too conscious of their social hierarchy to miss the deference shown by the senior beta.

"Soon after you left with that Death Eater, the alpha took the twins saying they were going on a trip. None of the older pack members were around at the time to object. When we were informed about him leaving with the pups, we panicked, not knowing what to make of his actions. We didn't believe they were in any kind of danger but it still bothered most of us that he would take the children away from the safety of the pack without offering a good reason for doing so.

"We'd just barely put together a search party and started out when the alpha returned. Not sure what they did while they were gone, but we didn't dare question the alpha since Wilbur and Martin appeared to be in better spirits than they were before they left." Gunnolf paused, looking uncharacteristically nervous.

"What is it?" asked Draco. When Gunnolf still wouldn't speak Draco tried a different approach.

"Tell me, what is it you hesitate to say?"

"The alpha was missing during the full moon- not strange in itself, I know- he returned in the early hours of the morning. He was badly injured. I've never seen him like this... He was both wounded and somewhat subdued when he returned."

Though Gunnolf had stopped Draco sensed he wasn't telling him all yet.

"Go on, Gunnolf, you can tell me the rest of it."

Gunnolf looked to his left and then his right, a pointless action meant to delay the inevitable.

"He had clearly been cleaned and treated by someone before he came to us, but I still managed to pick up a familiar scent on him- a scent I knew had no reason being anywhere near the alpha. So I asked Ash to take a sniff..."

Draco nodded in understanding. Ashley or Ash as she was known in the pack, though an omega was already one of their best trackers thanks to her sensitive nose.

"She said, well she confirmed, that I was correct. The scent we caught on Fenrir quite clearly belonged to Hermione."

Draco wasn't thinking, his body merely acting on instinct as he let loose a growl and rushed Gunnolf, slamming the head beta's body against the nearest wall before wrapping his fingers around his throat in a menacing manner.

"What the fuck are you trying to imply about my mate, beta?" he snarled in a way that left the more muscular _were_ cowering.

"Calm down, Draco. I meant no disrespect. I'm just letting you know that the alpha has been in contact with Herm- with your mate."

Gunnolf's arms hung limply at his side, his eyes were cast down and his neck bared in submission.

It took Draco a few moments to calm down, gather his wits and let go of the head beta.

"Have we received any cauldron orders since I left?"

Gunnolf stared at Draco in astonishment, questioning his sanity.

"Do I need to repeat myself?" snapped Draco impatiently when Gunnolf continued to silently gape at him instead of responding.

"No, I just wasn't sure if-" a withering look from Draco had Gunnolf cut himself short. "No. No, we haven't had any cauldron orders."

Draco growled and punched the stone wall with enough force his knuckles made a loud crunching sound as they broke on impact.

"Sonofabitch!" Draco cursed.

"Come on; let's go show this to Cora."

"No, let me see my pups first. I'll be able to think and act more rationally once I've calmed a bit."

* * *

It was much later that a composed Draco sat beside his pups, who were fast asleep, exhausted from playing with their father. The sight of them peacefully sleeping, along with their soothing scent helped Draco feel calm enough to process everything he was learning from the pack. At some point Cora had healed his hand. Right now Draco appeared to be holding court in his quarters; he was seated on his bed while Cora, Oskar and Gunnolf stood around the room.

"Lord Malfoy visited us the day you left. We managed to convince him that Ginevra Weasley still carries his heir," said Cora in response to Draco's question about Ginny's condition.

"That doesn't answer my question. Is she awake? Is she sensible? Does she have an explanation for what happened?"

Maintaining his tranquil state of mind was turning to be a real struggle when all Draco wanted was to tear apart every person that stood between him and the information he needed to find his mate.

Cora, though stunned at Draco's snappy manner, didn't admonish him like she would have normally. He couldn't help but grow irritated by how oddly they were all behaving, nothing like their usual selves.

"Can you just sit down already?" he barked at Oskar, who had remained standing even though the old man was usually the first to sit down since he tired more easily in his human form.

Instead of demanding his submission for daring to order his sire, the elder shocked Draco by silently moving to the nearest chair. Draco closed his eyes and refocused his thoughts. He would have to ignore their unusual actions for now as there were more pressing matters needing his attention. He turned his cold grey eyes upon Cora, waiting for a response from the pack's healer.

"She's awake. We don't have a skilled legilimens who can take a peek inside her head, but according to Ginny it was an accident. She says she overheard Hermione and you talking and believed Hermione meant to return to the Order as a spy for the Death Eaters. So when Hermione raised her wand to obliviate her, Ginny grabbed her wand and turned it on her friend. Unfortunately for Ginny the wand was loyal to Hermione and her spell backfired."

Draco considered this narrative and expressed his doubts.

"Can we trust that she isn't just playing us? She sounds far too reasonable, not at all like the witch we've seen the past few months."

"I can see why anyone who hasn't spent as much time with Ginny as I have believe that to be the case. But I assure you, there's been a remarkable alteration in her mental state since she woke up. She knew she lost the baby and expected to be sent back with Lord Malfoy. She began to reassess her opinion of us once she realised we were all lying to make sure she wasn't returned to those monsters.

"It wasn't as simple as it sounds now... I've spent a lot of time talking to her since her arrival here. She told me that after Lord Malfoy left she reflected on how she's been treated by the werewolves at Bleidd and concluded that we weren't the enemy. Once she heard about what your aunt did to you, she was fully convinced that she was wrong about all of us. Above all she feels shame over her attitude towards Hermione."

"And you believe her change of heart to be genuine?" asked Draco closely observing each _were_ in the room.

Oskar and Gunnolf nodded subtly, only Cora spoke.

"Yes. The pregnancy was a continued source of trauma for her; the child growing in her womb was a daily reminder of the hell she'd lived through. She resented carrying her rapist's child to the extent that she couldn't think rationally enough to discern the difference between her situation and Hermione's. As horrible as it sounds, losing the child did her a world of good. Over the last two days I feel like I've seen glimpses of the woman Ginny must've been before she was taken by the Death Eaters."

"Cora may not be a mind healer," said Oskar, softly interjecting, "but I trust her judgement on this."

Draco nodded. "Good, because I need to make sure we can trust Ginny Weasley as I plan to return her to the Order."

Everyone looked on in shock.

"Hermione was supposed to contact me once she made it back to the Order, but we've had no news from her. Fenrir was acting so suspiciously when Hermione escaped I worried about foul play on his part. Soon as I had the opportunity I made my enquiries at the Ministry. If Fenrir crossed paths with Hermione at some point and took her captive, one thing is for certain, he is acting without any assistance from the Death Eaters. This leaves him very few options when it comes to places he can hide her."

"But, if you believe the alpha has taken Hermione why do you wish to send Ginny Weasley back to the Order?" asked Gunnolf. Everyone appeared to want to hear his reasons.

"Well for one, I would like confirmation that Hermione didn't make it back to the Order, but I also wish to establish contact with them. I believe it's time for the pack to reconsider our existing alliances."

Oskar stared at Draco like he was some curiosity. "Does this mean you wish to break some of the current alliances?"

Draco turned his gaze upon Oskar and flashed him a cold smile.

"Considering how unbeneficial the current one has proven to be, wouldn't you say it was about time?"

They were talking treason and yet Draco noted not a single one of them shuddered at the prospect as they should have. If anything their bodies appeared to imperceptibly sag in relief.

There were a few moments of silence before Gunnolf spoke. "Are you going to question the alpha about your mate?"

"Don't you mean _challenge _the alpha?" Cora corrected the head beta before returning her gaze to Draco. "Fenrir may be weak right now, recovering from his injuries. But then, so are you."

"I have no plans to challenge the alpha." The words barely out of his mouth, Draco realised how untrue they were. He quickly added, "right now."

"Do you believe Hermione could be-" Cora hesitated "-in danger?"

Draco figured Cora really wanted to ask if he believed Hermione was still alive but didn't wish to risk his wrath by suggesting his mate might be dead. He had considered the possibility since hearing about Fenrir returning with Hermione's scent; however, every instinct he possessed affirmed his mate was alive and out there, waiting to be reunited with him.

"We may not have completed the bonding ritual, but we do share a bond. During the little time I spent awake the last few days I never sensed any distress from Hermione. Still, with Fenrir somehow involved, my mind won't know peace till I've verified for myself that she is really okay."

"Had Fenrir not arrived sporting the injuries he did, I might've grown concerned about the presence of Hermione's scent. As it is, I think it's safe to assume she must be among friends. How else could she have succeeded in delivering such a walloping to the alpha?"

Draco looked to Cora in surprise. "You think Hermione had a part in what happened to Fenrir?"

From what he had been informed, Fenrir's injuries had been so bad that, despite receiving timely treatment, the alpha was bound to sport a scar across his face for the rest of his life. Even armed with a wand Hermione would be no match for their brute of an alpha during a full moon.

"He was feverish for the major part of the day when he returned," explained Cora. "More than once I heard him mutter the same thing in his sleep- 'I'm gonna kill that bitch'. Since we all smelled Hermione on him, I believed she was responsible for his injuries."

"If she had help, it had to be the Order," added Gunnolf.

"Except, she was supposed to send word once she met with the Order. And since she hasn't so far..."

Draco sighed. "Well, for one reason or another, it looks like we need Ginny Weasley to establish contact with the Order."

They all nodded in agreement.

"If Fenrir has taken Hermione captive are there still members in the pack who would willingly help him?"

Everyone looked to Oskar. No one was as in tune with pack politics as the elder.

Oskar shrugged. "Depends on what he's promised them in exchange. I'll say this, Fenrir and his mutts are definitely up to something. They've been acting like they're in on some secret the rest of us know nothing about. But other than Fenrir and you, none of the _weres_ left Bleidd during the past week. So unless he's got her stashed somewhere on the castle grounds, Greyback's working on his own."

"Apologies, but I'm going to have to correct you, Oskar," said Gunnolf. "The day Hermione went missing and the next, we sent out hunting parties. We only have their word for whatever they were up to during the time they were gone."

Oskar shook his head.

"As someone who runs the pack, Gunnolf, you should endeavour to find out how many are truly loyal to the alpha. I made sure to conduct my own debriefing on the hunt and I can confirm that everything went as officially reported during their time outside Bleidd."

"So, we know Fenrir is working alone. And, he hasn't left since he returned?"

"Yes," replied Cora confidently. "Whatever happened to Fenrir, he's looking to settle a score, but there was something different about this incident... I've tended to him after many fights in the past, but I've never seen him shaken up like this before. He's determined to fully recover and be at full strength before he considers leaving the castle grounds again."

"The best course of action then would be to closely watch Fenrir and follow him the next time he leaves Bleidd. He's bound to lead us to Hermione, if he has her," stated Draco.

"It won't be easy to follow the alpha without tipping him off," pointed out Gunnolf.

"Surely we have some skilled trackers with a scenting range greater than Fenrir's?"

The head beta nodded and looked to Oskar.

"I'm going to run some names by you to check which ones can be trusted."

With pack loyalties currently divided they needed to be wary of the ones who still followed Greyback.

Throughout their exchange Draco took note of an uneasy expression on Cora's face; there was something else she feared revealing.

"If you're withholding information that relates to my children I'll be angrier over that than anything you may have to say, Cora," warned Draco growing further annoyed with the way everyone was acting today.

"A couple of omegas claimed to have spotted an elf with the alpha at the portkey point, both, while departing as well as when he arrived with the twins."

It was not odd that an elf would be used to take care of the boys as elves were commonly employed as nannies in the wizarding world. However, it was remarkable that Fenrir would have an elf since he did not come from a prominent Pureblood family and was unlikely to find an elf willing to bond itself to a werewolf.

"I didn't know Fenrir had an elf."

Cora shook her head.

"He doesn't - if he does, it's news to me. No, this particular elf, from the description I heard of the crest on its garments - Draco, the description of the crest sounded far too much like the Malfoy crest."

Draco wasn't sure what to make of the news that a Malfoy elf had accompanied his children during the time they went missing. Could it be that Fenrir took his sons to see their grandparents? Why would one of the Malfoy elves be involved unless his parents were involved? But he had not heard from his parents ever since the birth of his children. No, that wasn't entirely true. Even if he was unconscious at the time, from what Theo had told him, his mother did indeed come to see him in his time of need. She was possibly the reason why he was even alive today.

_"It would be selfish of us to take complete credit when it was someone else who played a crucial role in saving your life," said Theo._

_"Who are you talking about?" asked Draco._

_"She wanted to come see you once you were recovered but she needs to maintain appearances... She asked me to tell you that, no matter how she's acted towards you since you were turned she has never stopped thinking of you as her little boy."_

_Draco gasped when realisation dawned upon him. _

_"That- **that's** not possible."_

_"I told you I wasn't good with healing spells, Draco, but I remember you telling me about how Narcissa would sneak into your bedroom late in the night to heal you after Lucius was done disciplining you. When you were dying I thought, if there's anyone that can be relied upon to save Draco..."_

_"So my mother?" Draco was too overwhelmed by the revelation to coherently express himself._

_"I showed her my memory of the revel and what they did to you. She didn't even need to watch what Bellatrix did before agreeing to help any way she could. She attended to your wounds that night while Pansy and I merely assisted. She came back on your birthday to check on you and make sure there weren't any setbacks to your recovery."_

_"Mother?" he asked again, shaking his head in disbelief. _

_"Draco, you really don't realise what it's like for Pureblood women in this new world. Witches no longer get to make decisions for themselves, not even those of high standing like your mother. Narcissa never agreed to have her son turned into a werewolf and thrown out of her home. And she certainly never agreed to have her husband rape and impregnate a witch the same age as her child just so he could have a Pure heir. It doesn't help that despite being unhappy with the way things have turned out Lucius still continues to follow every one of the Dark Lord's commands. _

_"Narcissa may play the compliant little Pureblood housewife, but she is among a growing group of individuals who are against torture and have grown weary of the never ending war. Not only did she help save you, she has also agreed to pass on any useful information that will help bring about a much needed regime change."_

As much as it hurt him, Draco had been resigned to the fact that his dear mother would never be a part of the new life he had built for himself. Just when he had given up the hope of them ever having a relationship again, Theo had dropped that Muggle style bomb on him. Regardless of what he knew about his mother's role in saving his life he couldn't imagine her contacting Greyback to arrange a secret meeting with her grandsons. So, what was the connection between the Malfoy elf, Fenrir and his sons? At least now he had someone reliable to investigate this mystery for him- his mother.

Before Draco could mention it to the others Gunnolf spoke.

"I have nothing on the creature accompanying the alpha, but I do have a lead on where the alpha may have gone with the boys. Before the alpha returned the search party managed to pick up traces of his magic along with another unknown creature at the portkey point- from what Cora says the elf must've been the unknown creature. It was impossible for our trackers to pinpoint their destination without contacting the Ministry for travel details, but they all concluded that it was definitely an international portkey."

"Did you examine the boys when they returned to confirm that they were okay?" Though the question was addressed to Cora and Gunnolf, Draco was looking at his sons, inspecting each of their precious little bodies for any signs of harm.

"Yes," replied Gunnolf; Cora added, "If anything they looked healthier when they returned. They were definitely well looked after wherever it is they were taken."

"International travel isn't safe for children," stated Draco growing angry once again.

"It explains the presence of the elf," offered Cora.

Elf magic was better suited to transporting infants than any wizard mediums. Draco let out an angry breath immediately seeing her point. He would floo Theo straightaway and ask him to contact his mother.

"Let me look into this business of the elf. But, I want it made clear to everyone: my sons are not to be handed over to Fenrir ever again and they are **never** to leave the castle grounds without my express authority."

There was a chorus of yeses in response to his order.

Just when it looked like there were going to be no more revelations that evening Oskar loudly cleared his throat.

"I thought in the spirit of full disclosure I ought to come clean about something I haven't discussed with the people in this room." He paused only long enough to ensure he had their complete attention before he continued. "By now, I'm sure you all know about the _were_ prophecy that concerns the twins, but there's another lesser known prophecy which is considered a myth by even most Elders."

Everyone wore impatient expressions as no one cared for another one of Oskar's lectures on _were_ history just then, but he proceeded nonetheless.

"In brief, decades after we were cursed to our current state by the wizards, a were possessing great powers of divination spoke of the arrival of a Promised One-"

Draco raised a brow. Great, even the werewolves had a prophecy about Potter!

"During a period of great turmoil the Promised One would find their powers awakened. It was foretold that the Promised One would be a powerful were destined to become the Alpha of all alphas. The Promised One would be responsible for the creation of a powerful alliance that would rid the world of a great scourge, ushering forth a time of harmony between the Beings of the world."

_A powerful were, _wasn't that how the original _were_ prophecy had referred to him?

Draco pointed to himself and raised a questioning brow.

Oskar shook his head. "Right until recently I never even considered the possibility it could be you. No, I've had someone else in mind."

"Greyback? He's pretty formidable, but I don't see him-"

"**If** there's any truth to the prophecy, I believe the Promised One to be Hermione. I even told her so before she left."

"Sweet mother of-" started Cora.

"Merlin's balls!" exclaimed Draco at the same time.

Gunnolf was too stunned to form words.

"If I'm correct, we have no reason to fear for Hermione's safety- and having seen the state Greyback returned in, I believe I've been right all along. In my opinion it would be wiser for us to focus on establishing alliances and settling pack affairs."

"Even if true, I still need to confirm that my mate is safe," insisted Draco. "But, I won't neglect the pack's welfare pursuing my own selfish desires," he assured his pack.

* * *

Hermione slammed her forehead against the tree once and then again trying, as always, to control the beast. Her fingers cramped and cracked, her claws sliding forth under her nails, digging into the tree's trunk. She moaned, trying to remember who she was, as she thrashed about, her claws tearing chunks of bark free.

The she-wolf snapped at the air with deadly fangs and then cocked her head, listening. Her eyes reflected golden moonlight on a face dotted with dark black fur. She slid from tree to tree, amazed at how quickly she had grown used to spending all her time hunched down on all fours, feeling no desire to ever stand again.

Ever since she had recovered enough to leave the safety of the cave she began prowling the area around the cave marking the territory as her own. She noted the smells of other creatures who shared the woods with her, searching and failing to pick up the scent of another predator like her. She didn't know where her sire was, he and his scent had disappeared since the night of their fight.

At the sound of movement nearby, propelled by her hunger, she pounced on the creature, ripping it apart with her fangs and claws ignoring its pitiful whimpers. As a human she may have winced at the pathetic sound emitted by the dying animal, but as a beast she only thought of satisfying her own needs. And yet, not every attack was motivated by her desire to feed. There were times she sought out larger and more powerful animals for the sheer pleasure of satisfying her lust for blood. Engaging in acts of violence was the only means she had of abating the fury constantly churning within her. When she failed to find animals big enough to fight back, she took her anger out on the sturdy trees- tearing at their bark with her claws and slamming into their trunks till it hurt to move.

She patrolled the area around the cave regularly, and though she saw no humans, the magical barrier that prevented her from ascending to the top of the mountain was a palpable evidence of their presence there. The three children visited the cave two more times after the day they saved her life, but the she-wolf made sure to stay out of sight anytime her nose picked up their scent. She saw the disappointment in their faces every time they returned and failed to find her. The she-wolf was wary of the children. Even if they had not brought any grown-ups so far she did not know what to make of them. Still, she owed them a life debt and so she looked out for them and kept a watch on them any time she sensed their arrival on her side of the barrier.

The she-wolf grew restless with each passing hour. Healed now and having no leads on her sire she wasn't sure what she was meant to do or where she was meant to go. She desired revenge, she desired a reunion with her pups and her mate, but didn't know how to accomplish any of it. So in anger and frustration she continued to lash out at the trees and the animals in the forest till the staff of the magical school at the top of the mountain were alerted to her menacing presence at the edge of their school grounds.


	26. Chapter 26

"If Red isn't in place there will be consequences for you," replied Theo, giving his friend a meaningful look. Draco had just finished telling Theo about their plan to bust out Ginny Weasley.

"We have no other means of contact, except through Red. Based on the way things have progressed in my absence, establishing contact has become more urgent than before."

Even though Draco had called Theo's private floo there was no guarantee that their conversations weren't being monitored. Therefore, they used previously agreed upon code names and hand signals as an added security measure.

Theo exhaled loudly.

"Well, I hope you make good use of your birthday goodies."

Draco smirked. "Oh, I was planning to. Thanks for the treats."

The 'treats' were an assortment of objects that would prove useful in their future endeavours, but ones Draco could not have procured for himself without alerting the authorities. The items ranged from portkeys to something as rare as a set of two way communication mirrors.

"I suppose it's better if I don't know your plans."

"It is best. By the way, we may have a lead for the Mudblood."

"Oh yeah?"

"Yes. The trackers say they picked up her scent at the portkey point; they also picked up traces of an international portkey. The two may be unrelated events that occurred on different dates, but we have no other leads. Pack members never portkey to any overseas location straight out of Bleidd, so we thought it was worth investigating."

Theo was clever enough to figure out what he was getting at. And sure enough, his friend did not disappoint.

"I'll take a look at the travel logs when I'm at the Ministry tomorrow and check the list of destinations for any international portkeys activated from Bleidd."

Draco waited till the very end to casually bring up the main purpose of his call.

"Oh, I just remembered. The next time you see the Lady let her know that her elves are in need of discipline. It may just be a case of mistaken identity, but one of her elves was recently spotted handling precious cargo it had no reason being anywhere near."

Theo inhaled sharply; 'precious cargo' was the codename for Draco's sons.

"That's-" Theo appeared to be at a loss for how to delicately frame his question without betraying the true nature of their conversation to anyone listening in.

"_Unusual_, at the very least," supplied Draco. "It quite likely transported the cargo overseas." From the calm tone of Draco's voice no one would suspect he was referring to the abduction of his sons. He didn't need to explain that his sons were back with him, having already conveyed as much when they exchanged pleasantries at the start of the call.

Theo nodded. "Hmm, unusual. I'll mention it to the Lady the next time I happen to see her."

Throughout the call Draco made use of hand signals to relay the severity of the situation so despite his aloof tone, Theo would have grasped the urgency of his requests.

* * *

Something was different in the forest. The she-wolf got the distinct feeling of being hunted. So far she had successfully evaded the humans, but with the number of them lurking about she was bound to encounter one of them soon enough. She wasn't scared of them, after all, she could easily deal with any would-be-hunter by simply ripping off their heads, but the voice in her head cautioned against it, claiming such actions would only make the humans more determined to find her. The she-wolf didn't like obeying her weak human- who couldn't even protect herself unless armed with a twig- but she wasn't going to ignore her counsel; the last time she spared the life of a human had proven to be rather advantageous to her.

Unable to vent her rage on the humans she once again went on a rampage in the forest.

* * *

Draco stood at a discreet distance from the entrance to Ginny Weasley's quarters; she was carrying on a conversation with Cora, oblivious to Draco's presence on the other side of the wall. Hearing the redhead describe one of her nightmares to Cora made Draco feel extremely uncomfortable with eavesdropping on them, yet he continued to stay there as he agreed with Cora, in the absence of a legilimens, listening to Ginny open up to the mediwitch would offer much needed insight into the witch's current frame of mind.

"I'm on the floor, screaming from the labour pains. There's nothing in the empty cell, just a blanket beneath me that I grasp as the pain shoots through me... My nails are practically scraping the stone floor as it crowns. I reach down, feel for its head as it passes, wrecking my body on its way out. It flops into my hands. It's no baby. It does not even resemble anything human, just a mass of blood and flesh wriggling in my arms. It greedily clutches at my breasts, only instead of suckling at my teat, it uses its sharp teeth to bite me and drink my blood. When it's full it falls to the ground and crawls between my legs where it starts to forcefully penetrate me..."

"It's gone. You know, you're not pregnant anymore. You don't have to worry about any unwanted - You don't have to worry about that," assured Cora.

"I know, but I also know that we can't keep up this pretence forever. Don't get me wrong; as much as I appreciate what you've done for me, it's starting to feel like we've only delayed the inevitable. In a few months, when there's no baby, they will take me back and rape me till one of them puts their demon child inside me... I don't know if I could handle going through all that again. I couldn't handle it the last time, and this time I'm scared I'll be lost-"

Her statement broke off on a sob.

"Amycus would rape me, then Alecto would hurt me as punishment for tempting her brother. She would find creative ways to rape and defile me, hoping to put her brother off me. But, either she didn't know how depraved he was, or it was her own twisted way of feeding his fantasies, somehow, her involvement made him want me more. He was always most eager to rape me when she was around...

"None of them compared to Bellatrix. She was the one who tore out my hair... singed my scalp and body... That _crazy bitch_ was actually jealous that her husband and his brother would team up to rape and torture me! The more excited they got as they tormented me, the worse she treated me afterwards. But what they did had lesser impact on me because of what Lucius had already done - I had stopped thinking of myself as a person. I stopped thinking of my body as my own. So, I guess, what the others did, didn't really hurt as much as it should have... I can't imagine being handed over to one of them now - I'm terrified of facing that kind of pain - I'm even more terrified I'll lose my mind completely just to cope with-"

Ginny's voice broke into what sounded like body-wracking sobs. In the intermittent silence he heard soft shushing and cooing noises.

"Do not despair. We may have a way to help you. But it would require a great deal of trust in each other," said Cora. Her voice measured, hesitant almost.

"Cora, after everything you've done for me - I trust you. I think you've earned it, many times over - I would do anything you asked me to."

"What if there was a way for you to get back at the pack, at Draco? Would you jump at an opportunity to hurt Draco?"

There was a long pause- too long for Draco's comfort- followed by the sound of someone exhaling loudly.

"I- I know I've said some things about Mal- Malfoy... He's... I don't know what he is, but he can't be as rotten as we imagined if Hermione - I mean, I remember how they were together... I don't think Hermione would've been as _eager_ if he was like the Carrows or the Lestranges... or even anything like his father. I just - I've never liked Malfoy. And, he looks so much like his father... It was easy to hate him.

"But I've been thinking, maybe, maybe Malfoy was never like the others. Last night, I remembered an incident Harry told us about when we were in school. Harry happened to walk in on Malfoy sobbing in one of the school's bathrooms. Harry said he was shocked to see Malfoy that way. Shocked to see Malfoy capable of feeling that depth of pain... Harry fled in embarrassment, having seen something so raw, something he wasn't meant to see, seeing Malfoy be so _human_... The rest of us, we never understood what Harry meant. We just found it really pathetic that Malfoy would hide away in the girl's bathroom and cry."

Draco welcomed the silence that followed as his mind unwittingly dredged up painful memories of those helpless days in Hogwarts. At the time he had been furious Potter had caught him during such a vulnerable moment, but it sounded like Potter had empathised with him in ways Draco had never imagined possible.

"You still haven't answered my question, Ginny. Would you do anything to hurt Draco?"

Draco was glad for Cora's insistence. With the risks they would be taking, they needed to be certain they weren't potentially making a huge mistake trusting Ginny Weasley.

"No, I wouldn't. I think I'll always dislike Malfoy for willingly taking the mark that made him one of _them_, but I don't wish him harm anymore. I may have once considered hurting him just to hurt his disgusting family. But, if they can have him turned into a werewolf and hacked for entertainment... No, I don't want to hurt Malfoy... or the pack. I know what happens to prisoners; I know what we've done to prisoners. But you took care of me - fixed my broken pieces somehow. I wouldn't do anything to hurt you, and I know hurting your pack would hurt you."

There was another long pause before Cora spoke.

"We're going to help you get back to the Order."

Draco slinked away having heard enough. Cora would not have decided to share their plan with Ginny unless she was certain of her loyalty. Draco himself was sufficiently convinced, though a small part of him remained pessimistic. After all, this was war and Ginny Weasley was not pack.

* * *

They had her surrounded. And now that the adult humans had finally caught their first glimpse of the creature terrorising their forest, they would not stop till she was captured. Her choices narrowed down to either slaughtering her hunters or abandoning her newly familiarised surroundings.

No, that wasn't any real choice. Where would she go? She didn't have the means to make it back home. The now faint voice in her head asked her to let go, give over control to her human, but she couldn't, wouldn't, not yet. Not while her sire and other enemies still walked the earth. Not till her bloodlust was satisfied. With that thought in mind the she-wolf launched herself at the encroaching humans.

* * *

"Looks like Ginny Weasley will be returning home soon."

"So you were convinced?" asked Gunnolf.

"Adequately so. It's still a risk, but better than any other option presently available," replied Draco.

Gunnolf grunted in agreement.

"Good thing we still have that batch of polyjuice. Provided the alpha has no use for it anytime soon, we should be able to pull this off."

"One way or another I don't see us needing to keep up the charade for more than a couple of months. Considering it'll only be for a couple of hours every other day we should have enough to tide us over."

"Sounds about right. I rechecked the duty roster; the alpha's followers have never been given duties related to her so we can assign the jobs to whoever we trust without raising any suspicions."

They needed to consider things like who was assigned to something like laundry duty as no amount of polyjuice in the world could convince a werewolf that the scent on what should be Ginny Weasley's clothes didn't belong to someone in the pack.

"Hmmm."

"You look like you're still hesitant about something."

"I'm still not comfortable with how vulnerable this plan leaves Cora-"

"She volunteered. She knows the risks involved and she still offered to be the one to escort Ginny."

"Yes, but-"

"Draco, we know Cora's the best choice. None of the other betas have excuses to leave without drawing attention to themselves in some way."

The plan was to let Cora leave with a polyjuiced Ginny during her routine monthly supply run. Nothing would look amiss as Cora was known to go on these trips with whichever omega she was grooming at the time.

"I know. I just don't feel comfortable with the idea of a solo mission."

"Cora is tougher than you give her credit for at times. She's a decent enough duellist. And while she may struggle to best another beta, she could easily take down any witch or wizard she encounters. She'll only be on her own during the brief period when she leaves Bleidd and makes her way to the Order."

"You make it sound like the Order has no reasons to instantly attack Cora at sight."

"They're supposed to be the good guys, right?"

"It's war, Gunnolf, none of us have clean hands anymore."

* * *

The she-wolf blinked once, twice, tried and failed to clear the fog that had settled in her eyes. She could just about make out the human shapes around her. She made a futile attempt to get up and attack the shapes closing in on her, but her body felt weighed down, her limbs immovable despite the absence of bindings.

The people around her were talking but she couldn't make sense of the words, not because her hearing was impaired like her vision. No, her hearing was just fine; she just couldn't understand the language they spoke. The nagging voice in her head had returned to tell her that there may be more than one language being spoken.

"- animagus."

She turned in the direction of the person who had spoken the one word she recognised.

Either her expression or her body language gave her away as they stopped speaking all at once before recommencing in a most excited manner. Only the speech wasn't directed at her, it was directed at the person who had drawn the response from her. They grew quiet before the person spoke again.

"We know you are not animal," said the person, his words drawn out by his heavy accent.

She stared at him, but couldn't make his features out. No matter, she knew his scent now. Her blurred vision and lack of mobility was obviously the result of something they had done to her so she didn't feel particularly inclined to offer a response. The nagging voice pointed out that this person may be her chance to finally leave this land and return home.

_Yes, home!_

That is most likely where her sire had fled to in an attempt to lick his wounds.

Home also meant returning to her pups and her mate, reminded the voice. The she-wolf ignored her human; all those other concerns were secondary to her now.

The she-wolf tilted her head to indicate to the strange wizard that he had her attention.

"Are you stuck? Can you not turn back?"

It was technically correct, though she doubted they really understood what she was. She had smelled no other being like her in and around the forest. Perhaps it was best for her to let them continue to believe she was an Animagus stuck in her animal form.

She nodded in a distinct and deliberate manner so there was no mistaking her action.

"Yes. Okay. Good."

There was some discussion among the group before the man spoke again.

"You are not from here."

She would've snorted at that if she could; instead she offered another slow nod.

"Do you know where you are?"

She had an idea. Her sire had even told her where they were on the eve of her turning.

"You are in the Mountains of the Moon, Uganda. This is Uagadou. We are a school for magic. You have been entering on our school grounds without permission... Do you understand?"

They needed to extend the magical barrier all the way to the base of the mountains if they were part of the school grounds, said the voice inside her head. The she-wolf only nodded.

"I am Akiki Zuluka. I am the Potions teacher. We call the Transfiguration teacher, then we help you change back," said the wizard, his voice reassuring despite the strange inflection of his words.

A Transfiguration teacher wouldn't be able to force her to turn, so she would play along till she could get from them what she needed. Either that, or till whatever spell they had cast on her had worn off and she could move freely again.

"We are excited to see you. We have never seen animagus of extinct animal-"

Hmm, thought the she-wolf, maybe they had figured out what she was after all. She couldn't blame them for being excited; she had quite the thrill run up her spine when she saw her reflection at the watering hole.

"- We have seen patronus, but never animagus. We did not know it is possible to become animagus of dead animal! We want to know how you became-"

Akiki switched from English to some other language. It sounded like he was consulting with his colleagues.

" Adjule?"

"No."

"Tibicena?"

"No."

The Potions teacher fumbled around some more trying to grasp the correct word before he addressed her again.

"We want to know how you became_ canis dirus_."

* * *

"Uganda?"

"Yes."

"Why Uganda? What's there?" asked Draco, thoroughly confused by the information Theo had provided him.

"Potential allies, I hear."

"The Dark Lord wishes to make an alliance with the magical community in Uganda?"

It still made no sense to Draco. Sure, there were communities scattered throughout the lands of Africa with people who possessed amazing magical abilities. The problem was that even within any single nation the magical folk were not unified under a single government or leader. No one wanted to take on the nightmare of having to deal with the multitude of clans existing in any one of the countries on the African continent.

"We all had similar reactions. But the Dark Lord had the idea that they could control the locals by taking control of Uagadou."

"By Salazar, he's going after the kids again!" It made sense now. The Dark Lord found success in Britain using the same tactic on Hogwarts. He then tried doing the same with the magical schools in America and Bulgaria but failed since their governments had protected the schools from the Death Eaters. It made sense that he would go after Africa.

"That was the plan anyway. Father says both Lucius and he have failed in their attempts so far to establish dialogue with the locals. It's the same old problem one always faces with the magical community in Africa."

Draco nodded in understanding.

"Though, they did succeed in getting them to agree to the Death Eaters building a base there. The Dark Lord made sure it was as close to Uagadou as they would allow. Greyback's been there a few times. Father says he managed to thoroughly captivate the locals as they'd never seen a werewolf in person before. Their community is quite fascinated with the concept of animal transformations."

"So the portkey is to the base near Uagadou?"

"That's what I got from the Ministry travel logs."

"But why would Fenrir want to take my sons to Africa?"

"Show off for the locals? I have no fucking clue. Anyway, we've been talking long enough. I only rushed here because I didn't think there was any other secure means of dispatching the information to you," said Theo glancing nervously around him.

"Any news from my mother?"

"Not yet. Then again, I only managed to relay your message a day ago when we met at an event at the Greengrass residence."

Theo was ready to activate his portkey when he was stopped by Draco.

"I'm going to need another favour from you," said Draco.

"You know those are piling up rather rapidly at this point."

"I'm aware. Nonetheless."

Theo sighed and looked at him impatiently.

"I need you to go to Uganda and investigate this matter further."

"What?! Why would you want me to go?" asked Theo.

"Because I don't have a portkey for Uganda and I wouldn't be able to get one without raising a lot of red flags. On the other hand, you, as an active Death Eater, could easily come up with a reason to visit the base there."

Theo appeared to begrudgingly concede.

"I'll have one of the pack members accompany you. In the absence of any visual clues, they may be able to assist you by tracking scents."

Theo nodded. "Okay, but if I have to take one of you I insist it be Mr. Beefcake."

Draco responded with a raised brow.

"Hey, one look at him and my father or anyone else at the Ministry won't bother questioning my motives for wanting to go to a remote location with only a werewolf for company."

"Lord Nott wouldn't care that you're cavorting with a werewolf?''

"Why would he?" asked Theo with a shrug, then proceeded to pull out his vial of the Elixir of Euphoria and took a small sip. He waited for the potion to take effect before answering his own question in a cheery tone.

"It's not like he has to worry about me producing any Halfblood or mixed breed heirs that would taint his family name in the future. Quite frankly, father is more disappointed about my lack of ruthless ambition than he is about the places I choose to stick my dick."

Theo had a bright smile plastered on his face as he portkeyed away.


	27. Chapter 27

A groggy head and fuzzy vision were soon becoming the norm, thought Hermione upon gaining consciousness. Amidst trying to clear her head and focus on her surrounding, she felt a ripple in her limbs. Something was wrong, terribly wrong. Since the night of her turning, this was the first time she was able to take control of her body and it was only because the humans had drugged her so her wolf was finally asleep.

Looking down at herself, she saw parts of her had transformed. She tried to move, but her body was alien to her. There was so much power rushing through her veins even in her current state it made her dizzy and question if she could wield such power. Maybe her wolf was right; she _was _weak. She had been armed with a wand and Fenrir still managed to capture and rape her. She only escaped being bonded to him because her wolf had taken over and dealt with him.

Hermione felt an absence within her. Her bond with Draco gone.

_Draco._

Merlin! Why had he not come looking for her? Fenrir took her, took their pups, and while she was being raped and abused where was Draco?

The she-wolf was right to focus on vengeance. It was all she had really.

_Kill Fenrir. Kill Voldemort. Kill every Death Eater. Kill them all._

With that refrain in her head, Hermione let go.

* * *

The she-wolf woke up fuming. They had tricked her and then trapped her. The humans in this land did not use wands and they spoke in a foreign tongue, making it impossible for her to tell when one of them was firing a spell at her.

She looked at her body and was livid to discover that instead of her powerful paws she now possessed delicate hands with blunt fingernails. She could not tell if she was still a little out of it, or immobilised, or if her tail had just disappeared the same way as her paws, but she could no longer feel it when she tried swishing it about.

Her surroundings looked comfortable enough, but it mattered little to her as she was brought there without her consent. She growled and was pleased that at least her vocal chords remained unaffected by whatever they had done to her.

One of the humans, probably hearing her growl, entered through the door at the far corner of the room. The wizard smelled of fear as he cautiously approached her. How the tables had turned. Not so long ago she had been the human who had shuddered in fear when a wolf approached her. That wolf had turned out to be her mate.

_Mate._

Bah! Her lip curled in distaste at the word. Where was this mate of hers? Why had he let her be captured? Why had he not come for her? That was no mate. When she was done with her sire and others who had hurt her, she would find her pups and a new mate.

The dark skinned wizard smiled and spoke in a strange language before he fell quiet. For a brief second his face was a mask of concentration before his body changed and in place of the wizard stood a hippopotamus instead.

The she-wolf watched the creature in amusement. Was she supposed to feel afraid of it? It may have been bigger, but she was faster and stronger. Usually anyway, right now she was frozen in place and only able to move her head.

Akiki tiptoed into the room and stood quietly in one corner. He smiled when he noticed her looking at him.

"Hello. I see you have met my colleague. I am sorry. I wanted to come earlier, but I have classes. I came as soon as I am free," he said in his strange accent. His friendly manner appeared genuine but as he was one of the people who had drugged and immobilised her, she wasn't going to be fooled by him again.

"This is Kwame Okereke," he said pointing to the hippo standing there doing nothing. "He is the Transfiguration teacher. He will help you."

At a signal from Akiki, his colleague transformed back into his human self, nodded and bowed to her. She did not care for their friendly overtures. All she needed from them was a way to return home.

The two teachers spoke among themselves before Akiki addressed her again.

"Kwame will now change into his animal and then slowly change back to his human state. He would like you to pay close attention and copy him."

On cue, Akiki's colleague turned himself into a hippo. This time it was her human's turn to be amused. The transformation was done with such flair and drama that had the hippo been a rabbit it would have resembled an act from a Muggle magic show. It was no better than a Muggle magic show. This hippo was not a real creature, only a wizard pretending to be one.

It did not escape her attention that since waking up, her human self was no longer trying to wrestle control from her. Far from it, she was even beginning to come around to her way of thinking. This was good as they were meant to be one, not two. It was good they were finally merging, which of course would be bad for anyone who had ever wronged her.

Neither Akiki's instructions nor the Transfiguration teacher's actions distracted the she-wolf as she and her human focused on her weak hands and imagined them changing back into the strong forelimbs of her wolf form. There was no conflict between the creature and human parts of her, in that moment they were one spirit unified in their desire to change into the more powerful beast.

The she-wolf was pleased to feel her body change. She raised her head, proud of what she and her human had accomplished together.

"This is good. This is very good," said Akiki, grinning at her and excitedly patting Kwame on the back. The silly wizards thought they were somehow responsible for the change. "We will leave now and return later. Give you time to rest. Progress!"

* * *

_Oh, this is different._

Only Kwame and Akiki entered her gilded cage but, with the door left open, the she-wolf had already caught the scent of the ones standing outside—her little saviours.

Over the course of the past couple of days, the Potions and Transfiguration teachers, along with other members of the Uagadou school staff, paid her several visits. Despite their best efforts, they failed to get her to transform any part of her body. From their expressions, as well as Akiki's exclamations, it was apparent that the lack of progress had caused their enthusiasm to quickly run out. However, their interactions had not been a complete waste of time. Through a series of tedious questions, they had gleaned she was from Britain. They were ignorant of the war waging there and spoke of Voldemort as if he was the saviour of wizarding Britain.

Increasingly, everyone's frustrations began to mount; the humans, over their continued failure to solve the mystery of why she was unable to return to her human state, while the she-wolf was tired of being confined by four walls. She wished to flex her muscles and run wild, fight with other wild animals and feed on them. The ignorant humans were unwittingly torturing her by failing to cater to her needs as a creature.

"We had an interesting talk with three of our students," said Akiki after both wizards had greeted her. "They said they found you injured and treated you. We looked at their memories. We saw your injuries. Something terrible happened to you. We don't understand how you are alive... Our Headmaster thinks that you cannot change because you may be frightened. We want to show you, you have no need to fear us."

Akiki turned towards the door and in an authoritative tone, called out, "Watoto? Ingia."

As if summoned by Akiki, the three children entered. The little girl's eyes sparkled and she began to move faster when she spotted the she-wolf. She looked like she would have hugged the she-wolf, if not for the presence of her teachers. The two boys were more restrained, but their smiles went all the way to their eyes; they were also happy to see her. She had evaded the children every time they came looking for her, so this was the first time the three were setting eyes on her since saving her.

"Let me introduce you to your little healers. Kalisha Jakande, Bokamoso Falana and Mpho Saro-Wiwa," he said, pointing first to the little girl, then her friend and finally the little animagus. "Instead of practicing with Kwame and myself in this room, we thought you may feel more comfortable practicing with the children. You will be free to roam the school grounds—"

The she-wolf found Akiki's line of reasoning faulty. How could a bunch of children help her transform when their teachers had failed? However, her own teachers had thought nothing of exposing their young charges to hippogriffs, blast-ended skrewts, and even the occasional duel with a Dark wizard. To their credit, the staff at Uagadou had seen it fit to let her roam their school grounds because they believed she was a harmless animagus.

"—Kalisha and Bokamoso have yet to learn how to change into an animal but young Mpho, he is very talented, as you have seen. He could change into his animal even before he came to school," explained Akiki. Next, he addressed the children, his tone conveying he was most likely instructing them on how he expected them to behave.

This new arrangement would work in her favour, thought the she-wolf. The children especially should be easier to manipulate into providing her the help she actually needed.

* * *

"The rumblings have quietened in the days since Greyback's return."

"Do you think it has anything to do with him returning injured?" Draco asked his sire.

"Indirectly, perhaps. I suspect Greyback ending up injured has, either altered or delayed their plans. His mutts aren't quite as gleeful as they were during the first couple of days you were gone."

"How many of them are there anyway? Surely we can—"

"Do you think you're ready to fight Greyback?"

Draco did not need time to ponder. His wolf had been saying he was ready since ages now. However, Oskar was not done.

"I'm not just asking if you're ready to exchange blows with him. I'm asking if you're ready to kill him and take over as alpha of the pack."

Suddenly Draco understood Oskar's hesitation. Oskar did not doubt his ability to defeat the alpha; Oskar doubted if he could bring himself to deliver the deathblow.

_Draco, Draco, you are not a killer._

Dumbledore was right about that. Over the years, he discovered he did not have the stomach to kill anyone. How was he to bring himself to kill his own alpha? And what if he succeeded in killing Fenrir but failed as a leader? Without an alpha to bond with, would he not be condemning the pack to a life of madness and savagery?

Oskar placed a hand on Draco's shoulder and gave it a squeeze. "It is a lot, I know. We will wait till you're ready."

Draco did not feel so sure and said as much. "What if I'm never ready? It's one thing to cause someone's death while defending myself in battle, but to carry out an execution... I couldn't—I mean, I don't think I could..."

He did not know how to express all the things that had led to him being labelled as a coward.

"You're over-thinking this, my son. Give it time; instinct will govern your actions when you're ready. We don't need to get rid of Greyback yet as we first need to secure the pack against any external threats that may arise once he falls. For now, we continue to co-exist with Greyback and his lackeys and you continue to exercise your control over pack members that have bonded with you."

Draco nodded in agreement, though he doubted he could ever do away with Fenrir in the manner needed to succeed him as alpha of the pack.

"Have you received any news from your mother about the mysterious Malfoy elf?"

"No," said Draco, thankful for the change of subject, "but I haven't spoken with Theo again. He's concerned we may be drawing attention to ourselves with the frequency of our calls and meetings."

"His concern is warranted. More than a few in the pack have taken note of your recently renewed friendship with the Death Eater, no knowing who else has noticed. Too bad your friend didn't have another set of mirrors to spare."

"It's probably hard for you to imagine, but two-way communication mirrors are a rare commodity these days. The Dark Lord made sure to have them destroyed and banned early on. He then added a Ministry trace to the magic that creates a new set... It could not have been easy for Theo to acquire that pair given that even possession of communication mirrors is now taken as _intent to commit treason_ which carries an automatic lifetime sentence in Azkaban."

He was grateful for the pair Theo had given him; it meant they had a secure means to communicate directly with the Order.

"Every time you tell me about the world outside I'm glad to be an old werewolf with no dealings outside the pack," said Oskar letting out a long-suffering sigh.

"According to Theo, many are beginning to share that sentiment; they're not happy with the way the Death Eaters have been running things. With any luck, there are just enough disgruntled individuals in influential positions to pull off a coup."

"While I pray for the success of your plans, I don't imagine any change coming without an all out war."

"We don't have the numbers for an all out war. Apart from the pack itself, and hopefully some support from the Order, I don't see anyone joining our side should we engage in conventional warfare with the Death Eaters. Other wizarding communities have long been aware of the civil war going on in Britain, but to them it's nothing more than a local conflict. Even when the Death Eaters launched attacks in the Americas and Bulgaria, their governments downplayed the events as random acts of terrorism by individual groups with no connection to each other. They don't even recognise the Death Eaters as a group, let alone consider them a threat! Foreigners will not join us and the magical folk in Britain have been worn out by the events of the past five years. In bits and pieces, they surrendered control to the Death Eaters, but even though they're suffering the consequences for not having acted in the past, they lack the energy needed to fight back and regain their previous way of life. They do not want a war."

"Only a fool ever really wants war, but wise men accept that sometimes war is unavoidable."

Oskar's simple words carried the weight of truth. Theo and he had taken a page out of the Death Eaters' book on how to overthrow a government. They planned to work from the shadows to infiltrate and regain control of the wizarding institutions. However, they had made one gross miscalculation. With years of being in power, the Death Eaters and now even the Black Cloaks were emboldened and brash in their actions. They would not simply go away this time and wait quietly in the shadows for their next opportunity to rise to power. They _would_ put up a fight.

"We need to start preparing for a total war," said Oskar in a matter-of-fact tone.

Draco began to feel overwhelmed. It was all too much to think about. He wished Hermione were there with him. He would have liked to talk to her and hear her thoughts on the subject. After all, she had maintained her will to fight the Dark Lord and his forces under bleaker and far more hopeless conditions. Thinking of her made his heart ache. Instead of the sharp pain he had felt the day she left, he just felt hollow and empty, like a part of him that used to be there had gone missing without him realising it.

Draco sighed, his shoulders drooping.

"One thing at a time, Oskar. For now, I need to locate my mate, take care of my pack and figure out what Fenrir's been up to... Speaking of which, we may soon have some answers about his trip to Uganda. I believe Theo's going there today. "

Oskar gave him a questioning look.

Draco explained, "Fenrir ordered Gunnolf to report to Death Eater Headquarters, his presence was demanded for an overseas mission."

"As shameful as I find Greyback's dependence on Gunnolf, it's a greater shame that he would allow someone else to command his head beta," said Oskar with a shake of his head.

Draco shrugged it off. Fenrir had always shown zero qualms about letting the Death Eaters abuse his pack. Compared to some of his past transgressions, Fenrir lending his head beta as a tracker did not strike him as anything terrible.

"What do you expect to find there anyway? Your pups were brought back unharmed. The pack will ensure they never leave without your consent again. Why pursue this?"

Oskar was right, whether or not Fenrir took his sons to Uganda and what he did there was not an actual priority, and yet...

"I don't know what I expect to find, I just have this hunch that this is something I need to pursue."

Oskar nodded, of course.

_What we think of as instinct, is only the goddess' way of nudging her favourite creatures on to the right path. _

After all the times his sire had said those words to him, it came as no surprise that he would so easily accept Draco's reasons.

"I think Zoey is finally ready," said Oskar, moving on.

"She better be," rejoined Draco. "Cora will be leaving in a few days."

"Zoey's young and has a nervous disposition, but she is loyal to Cora."

"We both know I wouldn't have picked her if we had any other choice. Unfortunately, she's the only one who could play Ginny Weasley without the pack noticing her absence."

"I would've preferred someone not sired by Greyback, but Zoey is not a bad choice. The witch does not feel threatened by Zoey, so Zoey has been able to spend time with her, study her mannerisms..."

"I'm more concerned that the foolish girl will unwittingly get within scenting range of Fenrir's followers while she's polyjuiced as Ginny. It is a legitimate concern, considering she'll need to put on this act more than a couple of times every week."

"Cora is confident that Zoey will do just fine. You know Zoey has been under her care since she was turned; she knows her best."

"Doesn't change the fact that she's so young, a single slip up on her part would leave all of us exposed."

"I heard you were far younger when you were planning the assassination of one of the greatest wizards of our lifetimes."

Draco would have taken offence at Oskar's words if not for the compassionate tone of Oskar's delivery.

"Don't hold her age against her. She may appear incompetent around you because you unnerve her. You should get used to having that kind of effect on omegas."

It took Draco a moment, and he felt rather foolish when he realised what Oskar meant. Knowing the way the pack's social hierarchy worked, he should've been more conscious of how members of his pack would respond to the changes in him. If the pack's bitches had been eager to rut with him before, they would now engage in all sorts of seemingly odd behaviours to win his attention for as long as he was unmated. It would be worse during the full moon when they would most likely fight each other to be the one to receive his seed. He groaned at the thought.

"I really need my mate back."

"You should never have let her go. We tried to make both of you understand." There was no smugness to Oskar's words, just grim resignation.

"She wouldn't have been happy. She believes her place is beside her friends." Admitting it to someone else was more painful than he thought it would be.

"Once you were mated it wouldn't have mattered. Her place would be with you and the pack, for eternity."

"I wanted her to stay by choice," he said.

..._and she did not choose me._

* * *

Instead of the children, Akiki entered the room. The she-wolf had spent the last few days with her little healers roaming the school grounds as they urged her, through gestures, to imitate their little friend who could switch between his human and bird forms as quickly as he could flap his wings. While free to roam anywhere she pleased, she was still unable to cross the magical barrier and leave the school grounds; she noticed the children did not have the same restrictions.

Interacting with the children was a strange experience for her. For some unfathomable reason they accepted her and did not fear her, not even after watching the grisly display of her feeding. The little girl in particular did not shy away from showing her affection, going as far as wrapping her arms around her neck in a hug when she wished her goodnight. Even stranger, was how she felt around Kalisha, Mpho and Bokamoso, their mere presence was enough to make her feel and act less irrationally than when they weren't around. Nevertheless, as much as she was enjoying the company of the kids, she was tired of being stuck at Uagadou with no means to return home.

Well, if she could not return to the pack she may as well start building a new pack for herself. Isn't that how her sire had started out anyway, by biting random strangers? If he could do it, surely she could too. So what if she did not understand a word of any of the local languages? As their alpha, she would still be able to command them as she wished.

Yes, thought the she-wolf and her human agreed, that is exactly what she would do should the locals continue to prove useless.

The Potions teacher started speaking with a level of excitement not displayed since their first meeting.

"We have good news. We have an important visitor we believe can help you. He speaks English very well and he is a man of great influence. Even if he cannot help you change back he will be able to send you home."

* * *

AN: A helpful quote from chp 8 on the subject of lone wolves.

["Being an outcast is the worst punishment for one of our kind, pup. Doesn't matter if you leave, get kicked out, or are simply lost, once out of the pack you become a lone wolf, an outcast. As social creatures our minds cannot cope with the loss of the bonds- we slowly go mad.  
"Our nature compels us to seek others, to create a substitute for what we would have naturally found with the pack. But this is impossible to do as humans do not accept our kind. A wolf who has lost his mind grows more feral, he envies pack members for having what he cannot. In his jealous rage the mad wolf will lash out and attack our weakest members, thus making him a threat- a threat we then bear the responsibility to eliminate."]  
Hermione comes across as OOC because she's a lone werewolf with no pack or bonds.


	28. Chapter 28

_"We have good news. We have an important visitor we believe can help you. He speaks English very well and he is a man of great influence. Even if he cannot help you change back he will be able to send you home."_

Those were the excited words uttered by the Potions teacher before leaving. He returned minutes later, accompanied by her young friends, Kwame and someone new.

They entered the room one at a time, their bearing formal and expressions more solemn than she was used to seeing on them. Akiki and Kwame fussed about as they welcomed the stranger who was the last to enter.

"My friend," started Akiki, "it is my honour to introduce you to the honourable Babjide Akingbade, the Supreme—"

_—Mugwump of the International Confederation of Wizards, _supplied her human self, recognising the name of the stranger. However, the she-wolf did not need a fancy title to inform her of the man's superiority, not when she could sense the power of his magic. This man was not like anyone she had met here so far. Despite the friendly smile, his eyes warned of a cunning intellect.

Akiki addressed the man in his native tongue with Kwame joining in. Although the stranger nodded along, even responding now and then, his keen gaze remained focused on her. At first, she thought he was studying her but soon her head began to ache from the tremendous force attempting to break through her natural mental barriers. If she were really an animagus, her secrets would no longer have been her own.

_Rude._

"Forgive my rudeness," said the wizard, "but you know what they say about old habits."

He did not strike her as even the least bit apologetic, and the timing of his statement made her wonder if he had finally succeeded in reading her thoughts. Fortunately for the wizard, the children were present. They may be smiling at her now, but they would be horrified if she were to rip out the impertinent man's insides right before their eyes. She forced herself to calm down and tolerate his presence.

"Mr. Zuluka informs me that you are from Britain. I know things are different there now, but some things remain unchanged. For instance, animagi have been required to register themselves and the form of their animal for as long as I've lived. If you were registered I am certain we would've long ago heard about the existence of an animagus with such an unusual animal."

The man paused, his eyes continuing to appraise her. If he was waiting for a reaction from her, she was going to disappoint him.

"The logical conclusion would be that you are an unregistered animagus, yet I cannot shake off the feeling that isn't quite it either."

The man drew closer while he spoke but, engrossed in trying to figure out his suspicions, she paid no attention to his movement. Despite his apparent power and shrewdness, the she-wolf did not feel threatened by the Supreme Mugwump even when he stood beside her, so confident was she in her own superiority. Therefore, he caught her off-guard when he unexpectedly laid his hand on her and shouted, "Homorphus!"

To her shock and the amazement of everyone else, including her own human, her body transformed into her human self. She barely had time to register her nakedness before Kwame had transfigured his cap into a smock, similar to the one he wore, and threw it over her.

Babjide looked a little stunned when he spoke. "I didn't actually expect that to work—"

She stared daggers at the man who had forced her to change into her weak human body.

"—When the Headmaster informed me that the reversal spell and potion had yielded no result I began to grow suspicious that you may not be an animagus after all. It was inconceivable that the highly capable staff of Uagadou, with all their expertise on the subject, would fail at helping an animagus return to form. No one considered the possibility of you being a werewolf, definitely not me. How could we? A werewolf who could stay in their wolf form for days sounded more like something out of human myths and legends than reality. But I saw you and thought, a dire wolf's also not a part of our reality."

She closely watched the wizard in silence, doing her best not to giveaway the growing anxiety her human felt the longer she remained in her human form. She was certain of her strength and ferocity even in this form, but despite her attempts to reassure, her human remained unconvinced. Her human pointed out that without her claws and fangs she was weak and vulnerable. They could hurt her. They_ had_ hurt her by keeping her trapped in this place on the pretext of trying to help her, and this particular wizard had gone so far as to put his hand on her.

_I am **not** weak! _

_Never that, _she insisted. In her human form, she still had her magic. She rubbed her fingers together, relishing the feel of the sparks jumping across them. Yes, she had her magic.

The she-wolf observed the ebony trio standing behind the adults, who had most likely forgotten about them. With wide eyes and wider grins, the children took in her new form. Silently and wandlessly, she directed her magic towards Kalisha's hair, levitating one of her pigtails. The children's response was to cover their mouths and giggle. Hermione let the pigtail drop back into place just before their teachers turned around to check on them.

With an imperceptible shake of her head, she tried to convey that they not speak about what they had just witnessed. Their eyes glowed with mischief each time they snuck a glance at her while responding to their teachers' probing questions with silence and a shake of their little heads. Their actions made her feel just a little more connected with them.

Her display did not fully inspire confidence in her magical ability, but it made her human less anxious, which in turn made her feel more composed. She returned her attention to Babjide, who was speaking to her again.

"There are a host of questions the school staff would like you to answer—and I have a few of my own—but, perhaps we could start with the simplest one. Who are you?"

Did she want to tell this man the truth? As far as she knew, he was neutral, not allied to any of her enemies, yet she was not inclined to satisfy the curiosities of these strange men. However, the Supreme Mugwump did possess the ability to send her home...

Instead of answering Babjide, she walked around him, moving closer to the children so they surrounded her. Mpho transformed into a bird and perched on her shoulder—of the three, he seemed more attuned to her needs. Comforted by the company of her little saviours, she was able to make up her mind.

When she finally spoke, her voice was faint, her human vocal chords strained from disuse. "I'm Hermione Granger."

* * *

"We have to tell Draco about this," said Gunnolf insistently, staring at the fifteen-inch long elder wand in Theo's hands. "I can smell Hermione on that wand. That's definitely hers. She—"

"I don't mean to question your abilities—you're probably quite good with scent tracking, normally, but you are mistaken this time. I have seen this wand enough times during my school years to recognise it as Headmaster Dumbledore's wand. As I recall, Draco took to using it after his own was destroyed."

"If it was Draco's, he may have given it to Hermione before she escaped. We can confirm this by asking Draco."

Theo shook his head, adamant himself. "No, we cannot do that. Don't you get it? What do you think will happen if it turns out that Draco did really give Granger this wand?"

Gunnolf stared blankly.

"I probably don't understand the whole mate business when it comes to werewolves," said Theo, "but from what I've heard and seen of Draco's behaviour so far, he's extremely protective of Granger. If Granger was in possession of this wand when she left, then it would not be a stretch of the imagination to assume that at some point she crossed paths with some Death Eater for this wand to end up here."

"Yes! That is exactly why we need to tell Dra—"

"Can you try to think through on what would happen if Draco discovers that some Death Eater may have ended up in possession of Granger's wand... or have you suffered one too many blows to the head so now all you're good as is eye candy?"

"Instead of insulting me you could simply explain your—Wait. What do you mean eye candy?"

Gunnolf did not know what to make of the temperamental Death Eater. Since leaving the Ministry, he was suffering from whiplash, courtesy of Theo's mood swings. Every couple of hours, without warning or provocation, the wizard would go from carefree and chatty to quiet and gloomy, only to have his mood automatically perk up moments later. However, once they discovered the wand lying abandoned on the floor of one of the many rooms of the building that served as the Death Eaters' base in Uganda the mood swings were replaced by a more acerbic-tongued and contemplative wizard. Gunnolf instinctively sensed that this by far was the most real version of Theo he was seeing.

Theo tilted his head back and let out a sigh. "Look," he said at long last, "you may not be privy to all the details, but I'm aware that Draco has shared enough so you know what we're trying to do. Currently, Draco is one of the key players on the chessboard. I can't have him abandoning our plans to chase after Granger instead."

Gunnolf was resolute. Theo may fail to grasp the significance of a true mate, but he did not.

"If this is really Hermione's wand, then we need to find out what happened to her. She could be hurt, captured, or Luna knows what else! She is most likely in need of our help."

"I take no issue with investigating this matter further. I'd just prefer to leave Draco out of it till we know for sure that Granger isn't back safe with the Order. To me, it seems more likely that she lost the wand at some point as I doubt she was able to command the great Albus Dumbledore's wand... Let's take a look at the last few spells cast to get an idea of what this wand's been up to."

...

The two men stared at the results of the _Priori Incantato_.

"No spells to suggest the caster was under attack or even engaged in some kind of duel," declared Theo. Gunnolf stared a little longer and then nodded. Sensing that he was finally getting through to the werewolf, Theo pressed on. "If she was captured or hurt by any Death Eater or Black Cloak I would've heard about it by now. Granger isn't just any Order member. She's one of the Golden Trio. People would boast about her capture."

"We came here following the alpha. It is possible that this is Fenrir's doing and has nothing to do with the Death Eaters."

Theo rubbed at his temples. The sexy werewolf was quickly wearing away at his nerves with his insistence that they share his wild theories with Draco just because he caught a whiff of Granger's scent on the wand.

"Or it's just a coincidence? After all, we did find the wand at a Death Eater base, not at Wolf Castle."

"He brought the twins here. We know that for sure since we found some of their things in one of the rooms. Isn't it possible he also brought Hermione here?"

"Are you suggesting Greyback arranged some kind of reunion for Granger and her tykes?" asked Theo, scoffing at the idea.

"It may sound ridiculous when you put it like that, still doesn't change the fact that he brought the pups here and we found Hermione's wand here as well."

Theo sighed, again. He did not have the energy to keep at this argument, not with his Elixir of Euphoria almost all gone. He should've packed a larger quantity, or better yet he shouldn't have taken as many generous swigs of the potion as he had that day, except he had been enjoying Mr. Beefcake's company and did not want to put him off with his usually dour mood.

"Before rushing back to Bleidd to raise the alarm, how about we first complete the task we came here for? Let's finish exploring this place for any clues for why Greyback would've wanted to bring Draco's sprogs here, then talk to some of the locals and find out what he's been up to. At the same time we can search for clues on what may have happened with Granger."

Hours later, both men were not sure what to make of the things they had found at the base.

"I don't have to be a Potions Master to know that's Fero," said Gunnolf of the vials of clear liquid in his hand.

"Do you know how common this stuff is nowadays? It's the Dark Lord's favourite currency for bribing wizards and creatures alike," said Theo.

"Sure, but this particular version has only been given to us werewolves... and Hermione."

"So? Greyback was probably planning to bring the pack here. I received reports that the locals were rather receptive towards him. He may have been planning to carry out some breeding experiments of his own right here. He may have even gotten started on it already—Weren't you saying you smelled the strong scent of sex in the cellar?"

Gunnolf nodded. There was a long pause before he spoke. "Don't you think it's time we addressed the elephant in the room?" he asked the wizard.

Theo swore and cursed under his breath.

There was a damning certainty in Gunnolf's tone when he spoke. "That was _her_ blood I smelled outside along with the alpha's"—His voice lowered to a whisper even though there wasn't a creature around to overhear them—"There was something different about it, but it was hers. She lost a lot of blood, far too much."

Theo cursed louder this time.

"That yard has so much blood on it, the mud has actually taken on the colour of the blood it soaked up," said Gunnolf, jerking him thumb towards the ground just outside the main gate of the fort like structure. "I think—I think this is where Fenrir got hurt. The tracks aren't clear enough to read but some kind of fight must have taken place. When he returned, we could smell Hermione on him. It made no sense to us at the time, but looking at that... We need to tell—"

Theo shook his head. "We can't tell him. We just _can't_. He'll lose all motivation. This, this will destroy all of us."

Theo did not care that his voice had taken on a pleading tone. Too much was riding on Draco and he did not believe his friend would still care to fight the Dark Lord if he had reason to think his Mudblood was dead.

"Draco needs to know. He's expecting to be reunited with his mate because he believes she's still alive. But this explains why he hasn't been able to sense her—"

"Just shut up and listen to me, you muscled oaf. Without Granger in the picture, Draco will have no reason to fight the Death Eaters or contact the Order, which means you continue to be stuck with Greyback as your leader while the rest of us suffer under the Dark Lord. There is more at stake here than some dead mate, don't you see that?"

Watching Gunnolf's face crumple, Theo knew he had taken the wrong approach. He changed tactics.

"Greyback made it back alive. Isn't it possible Granger did as well?" Even he did not consider this a real possibility.

"Fenrir is a werewolf, moreover he's an alpha. I don't see someone as frail as Hermione recovering from that sort of blood loss." His tone suddenly changed. "Not unless..."

"Unless what?" asked Theo, curious to know what thought had just occurred to Gunnolf.

"...unless the alpha turned her. She _may_ have been turned... She could be hiding somewhere, recovering from her injuries, and struggling to cope with the trauma of being a new wolf—a lone one at that."

"You think Granger may be alive?" It was Theo's turn to be surprised by the abrupt alteration in the other man's mood.

"There is a possibility. It would explain why Draco is so certain about her being alive. Hermione getting away alive also explains why the alpha's been in a sulk ever since he returned. He's never wasted an opportunity to torment Draco. If Hermione was dead he would've gleefully gloated about it."

"I doubt Granger has a portkey to leave this country. If she is alive, and hurt, she couldn't have gone too far... Instead of aggravating me by once again insisting that _we have to go tell Draco_, how about we form a little hunting party? I would really prefer returning with Granger at my side, or at least confirmation that she isn't in Uganda, instead of going to Draco with what little we know right now."

For once that day Gunnolf was quick to agree with him.

* * *

AN: At the start of the chapter, Babjide is unable to perform legilimens on the she-wolf because werewolves have natural blocking abilities (not because Hermione is some kind of natural occlumens).

According to the bit of info I found about Uagadou (Wag-a-doo), some of the students (as young as 14) were able to change into elephants and cheetahs. I imagine their classroom layout would've differed greatly from the ones at Hogwarts.


	29. Chapter 29

Hermione woke up in a bed feeling uncomfortable. Her discomfort arose not from her surroundings but her skin, which in turn did not have anything to do with her leaking breasts—it happened so often she no longer thought about why they even leaked. No, it was her skin, her human form that bothered her. It made her feel defenceless even if she was capable of wandless magic now.

She mentally cursed the wizard who forced her to change. She wished to go back to being the powerful beast, but in spite of all her pleading, the she-wolf refused to transform. She began to claw at her hands and face with her blunt nails in her pitiful attempt to shed her human shell.

_Relax._

The she-wolf's self-assured tone helped her feel less anxious. She longed for the she-wolf to take over again. The she-wolf had forced her human self into the spotlight in the belief that the appearance of vulnerability would work in her favour with the strange wizards, and she was proven correct. They had asked her a few basic questions about who she was and then left her alone.

_"Hermione Granger," repeated Babjide. At a nod from her he continued, "Alright Ms. Granger, would you care to explain your unusual circumstances?"_

_"I wouldn't know where to begin," she said, hating how meek she sounded. She was unsure of herself and on the brink of all out panic. It was bad enough she was in her human form but the she-wolf had also forced her to the forefront. She closed her eyes and tried to come up with some kind of sensible answer to the man's question. _

_"All I can say is that I am the product of an ugly war," she said after a long pause._

_"A war? And what war would this be?" asked the Supreme Mugwump, leaning forward._

_"The fight against the evil regime of the one who calls himself Lord Voldemort."_

_"Ah, the very same Lord Voldemort who was the reason my predecessor was forced to step down?"_

_She nodded._

_"I take it from your statement then that you belong to one of those little rebel groups?"_

_Another nod. She did not agree with his characterisation of the Order but knew that, as far as the outside world was concerned, they were rebels at best and terrorists at worst._

_"I belong to the Order of the Phoenix." Babjide's face remained blank, that name didn't register. She used another, "I fight alongside Harry Potter!" _

_Emotions welled up within her as she remembered Harry, but it also brought a certain confidence to her. Harry, the fight against Voldemort—this was familiar ground._

_"Harry Potter... Yes, I know what group you speak of. As I recall, it was a group founded by Albus himself."_

_She nodded again, not trusting herself to speak. Gods, the days when they could still depend on the wisdom and guidance of Headmaster Dumbledore felt like several lifetimes ago. _

_Babjide let out an exasperated sigh. "All these years later your group still continues to chase the same bogeyman," he said with a shake of his head. _

_"I assure you, Tom Riddle or Lord Voldemort is no bogeyman; he is very much real."_

_"Yes. I've heard he is a very powerful Dark Wizard, but that is hardly a crime."_

_"No, but enslaving and killing people is a crime. Or it was... till his followers changed the laws so they could do as they please." _

_"My experience in politics has taught me that there is always more than one version to any story. It is something I need to often remind myself to ensure I remain fair and unbiased in my role as Supreme Mugwump. From what we know of the situation in Britain, this Lord Voldemort is a populist of sorts... However absurd his ideology, he appears to have the support of the masses and poses no threat to the magical community at large. On the contrary, he has helped developed a revolutionary new potion which is rumoured to have fixed the fertility problem that has been plaguing magical beings for a while now."_

_She felt drained. Listening to Babjide reminded her of all the reasons why it had always been just a handful of Order members fighting against Voldemort and the Death Eaters. People either did not consider Tom Riddle to be a threat until it was too late or thought him too powerful to bother resisting. It was exhausting constantly having to convince people that Voldemort was an evil mad man who needed to be stopped, that he wasn't an immortal god who could not be defeated._

_"So, what brought you to Uganda?"_

_This question was harder to answer; she felt raw from the hurt and unvented anger when she thought about why she was there. She felt Mpho and Kalisha hug her and realised she was trembling. It took another moment to realise her vision was blurry from the tears running down her cheeks. This show of weakness made her feel ashamed._

_Contrary to her expectation, Babjide did not press her for an answer. He surprised her with what he said next._

_"The Headmaster shared with me the memories of the night the children discovered you... I do not know why you came here but I think it may be a good thing that you ended up at Uagadou. The school staff have accepted you as their guest and extended their hospitality and protection to you. You can rest assured that you are safe here. _

_"I've been asked to help you return home. When I leave from here, I shall arrange for a portkey so you may re-enter Britain. However, if you ask me, Ms Granger, I think you should reconsider your decision to return home. You've clearly experienced some trauma and from the way you speak of things, it sounds like life back home is less than ideal for you. Stay here a while, let **all** wounds heal before you think of moving on," he said, giving her a look that suggested he was referring to more than just her physical wounds. _

Babjide had left without asking her any other questions despite his obvious curiosity about her beast. Two days later, he surprised Hermione again when an owl dropped off a package containing a small wolf totem. There was also a note from Babjide, informing her that the object was a portkey for some nondescript Muggle town in Wales, good for a single use, but it would only be activated the following week. He ended the note expressing hope that she would use this time to consider making a fresh start for herself at Uagadou.

Hermione reached under the pillow, felt around until she found the portkey and held it securely within her fist. Part of her was tired enough to be tempted by the prospect of a new and strife-free life for herself. Between the acceptance from those at Uagadou as well as the adoration of her three young friends, she thought she could make a life for herself among these people—much like Remus had done with the Marauders and the Order of the Phoenix. She could spend her life safely hidden away here, but the she-wolf insisted on returning home.

_Pack._

Yes, pack was important. She tried to remember why.

_"Werewolves are pack creatures; we go mad without a pack."_

That was Draco's reason for not completing the mate bond before she left. Thinking of Draco brought a confusing rush of emotions, ranging from feeling loved and cherished, to abandoned and disappointed.

The she-wolf was right. Uagadou was a safe haven, but it wasn't home. Her pack was out there somewhere waiting to be claimed, whether they knew it or not. Once she had a pack, she would stop feeling so out of sorts. Then she would be just as strong as the she-wolf and finally she could exact her revenge on everyone who had hurt her, as well as the ones who had let her down.

* * *

"Any news from your Death Eater friend?" asked Oskar.

Draco shook his head. "Which I suppose is a good thing or Theo would've contacted me by now."

"What about Gunnolf; any update on him?"

"No. All I know is that there aren't any tasks assigned to him on the duty roster for the next few days. Fenrir hasn't spoken directly with me since I returned. He's been excluding me from pack matters even though I'm Gunnolf's second, as far as he knows, and in charge of running the pack when the head beta isn't around."

"I wonder why that is? If he sensed any change in the bonds, he would've challenged you by now. He's up to something."

Cora, who had silently been following the exchange between Draco and Oskar, finally had a reason to speak up. "He's planning on splitting the pack. He's at long last realised that the pack is too large."

"Ah, so he _has_ sensed some changes," said Oskar. "Gunnolf's been after him for a while to form a second pack. Nice to hear he's decided to listen."

"Yes, Fenrir finally listened, but, true to form, not closely."

"What do you mean?"

"He wants to take some of the pack to Uganda and leave the rest here at Bleidd. He also plans to remain alpha of both packs."

Oskar shook his head vehemently. "He's even crazier than I thought if he imagines that'll work. He can't keep the packs that far apart if he plans to be bonded to both."

"He can bond with two packs?" asked Draco surprised. No matter how much he learnt about pack dynamics it felt like there was always more for him to learn.

"He could, technically. An alpha may bond with several packs if they so wished, but then the bonds would be far too weak for them to effectively perform their duties as alpha. This may sound like a paradox, but the purpose of the alpha's powers is to serve the needs of the pack."

Draco nodded. Once again, he was reminded of how lucky they were to have an Elder in their pack. Such a shame Fenrir only saw Oskar as just some werewolf who was too old to be of any use to the pack.

"Has he mentioned how he plans to go about it?" Oskar asked Cora.

"From what I understood he intends to let us decide for ourselves."

"Unlikely," said Draco. "Even if Fenrir hasn't caught on to what is going on he must sense the divisions in the pack. I suspect he will split the pack along those lines."

"But the division is between those loyal to him and those who aren't," said Cora.

"Yes, so we need to ask ourselves, why would Fenrir even want a pack of those who aren't loyal to him?"

They fell silent at those ominous words from Oskar. There was no doubt in any of their minds of what Fenrir, the ruthless leader who had not thought twice before offering his pack to be experimented upon or used as cannon fodder in battles, would do to those he believed were disloyal to him.

"So much for waiting till I'm ready," Draco grumbled under his breath.

Oskar gave him a sympathetic look; to Cora he said in a stern voice, "We proceed as planned."

Cora visibly gulped, then looked down and nodded.

It took Draco a few moments to understand Cora's reaction. She was concerned for Zoey, and with good reason. Cora was due to leave with Ginny the following day after which Zoey would emerge polyjuiced as Ginny every couple of days to convince the others that Ginny remained their prisoner. They could pull off this deception provided no one loyal to Fenrir came within scenting range of the fake Ginny. For as long as they were at Bleidd and either Draco or Gunnolf was in charge of managing the pack, they could assign duties in a manner that kept that secret safe. That would change if the pack split. Whether Fenrir chose to go to Uganda or remain at Bleidd, he would want to take his prisoner with him.

Sensing Cora's unease, Draco attempted to reassure her. "Whoever Fenrir may decide to cast out, we can be certain he won't let go of Gunnolf and you. I am sure the two of you can work out a plan that protects Zoey. If at the time it doesn't look like a viable option, you can make it appear as if Ginny escaped."

Cora blinked at Draco. "_Cast out?_" she asked, her voice close to hysterical. "We'll be lucky if that is all Fenrir will do. You cannot expect us to just leave the rest of you and switch allegiance to Fenrir!" She looked lost, almost scandalised by the suggestion.

Oskar came to her rescue. "Relax, little one"—though delivered in a soothing tone it was a command all the same—"You will not be abandoned. Draco will do what needs to be done when the time comes. Till then, we play our roles as expected."

Although still upset, Cora appeared less so.

There were things Draco wished to discuss about the future of the pack but given Cora's reaction, he thought it best to have that discussion with Oskar alone later.

"Have you managed to prepare Ginny for what to expect once she returns?" Draco asked Cora.

Cora shook her head. "She believes she will be safe once she returns to the Order. I'm worried the shock will be too severe and she may return to her previous mental state."

"The shock? Surely she came to the same conclusion as Hermione about why she ended up a prisoner to start with?"

"I don't know. I've tried to talk to her about her capture, and the events leading up to it, but she usually shuts me off. She either hasn't considered the possibility or is too scared to consider it."

"She needs to be prepared, Cora. We can't go to all this trouble to send her back only for her to end up a captive again because of the traitor in their camp."

"I understand; I just don't want to push her right now. While she is desperate to return to her loved ones, as the day draws nearer, she grows more anxious about seeing them again. She knows it wasn't her fault, but she still feels dirty, because of what they did to her. She's apprehensive about how her fiancé will respond to her knowing what was done to her at Godric's Hollow."

Draco swallowed his groan of frustration. He pitied Ginny. He even experienced some degree of guilt because of the role his family had played in her suffering. It wasn't fair that they were in this situation where they needed to rely on Ginny as heavily as they did.

"You have until tomorrow, Cora. Talk to her. Get her to share details—who was their informant, who came up with the plan etcetera. It will at least give us a list of suspects to investigate from our side. We need to identify the leak on their end not just for her safety but ours as well," said Draco, giving Cora a pointed look before dismissing her.

After Cora left, he turned to Oskar, brows furrowed in deep thought. "We're in no position to split off and start our own pack. We may be able to kill a few people along the way but eventually they will kill us all. Most of the pack is neutral. They don't like Fenrir but they won't fight him. We don't have the numbers, and that's not even taking into account the Death Eaters and Black Cloaks who will happily side with Fenrir to crush any kind of werewolf uprising."

Oskar nodded. "We need to figure out a way to delay whatever Fenrir has planned."

* * *

"It's our fourth day here and we've made no progress. I think we need to—"

"...return to Bleidd? Yes, I agree," said Theo, pre-emptively cutting Gunnolf off. He was more resigned to the idea than annoyed with Gunnolf for suggesting the same thing for the umpteenth time.

"Really?" asked Gunnolf doing a double take. He expected Theo to argue against it, same as every other time he had suggested returning so far.

Theo shrugged. "Like you've been saying, there are no tracks to follow and based on all our enquiries with the tribes in the locality, all we've figured out is that you shouldn't come to Africa without a translator."

In the end, even a translator had proven to be of little help in their quest. After a frustrating first day of struggling to communicate with the locals, they were able to find a translator at a hefty fee, yet the man's translations left a lot to be desired. Based on his descriptions, the Mountains of the Moon forest was recently haunted by a vicious beast that had terrorised the locals and scared away every other predator in the region until finally it was captured by the teachers at Uagadou.

"They did also mention Uagadou," said Gunnolf.

"You were present each of the times I flooed the school. Every time they said the Headmaster was unavailable and asked me to call another time."

"It may have something to do with that mark on your arm. Didn't you notice how the locals would react anytime they saw it?"

"No, I didn't."

As someone who prided himself on his observational skills, Theo was a little taken aback he had failed to notice the distaste shown by the locals towards Death Eaters. He had thought the stares were for his wand, which he needed to cast any spell. As the only one who needed a wand during the course of this trip, the entire experience had left Theo feeling wholly inadequate as a wizard.

"Don't feel bad. My senses being as sensitive as they are, I can hear even the mildest change in breathing pattern as well as smelling fear. Werewolves are really good at smelling fear."

"Too bad you're not as good at smelling arousal," Theo mumbled to himself.

More than once in the last three days Gunnolf felt certain that Theo was hitting on him. He did not know the wizard well enough to tell if it was a case of genuine attraction or if Theo was just another hedonistic Death Eater who could not keep it in his pants. Even if the former was true, Gunnolf did not see the point of pursuing anything with someone whose background was so different from his. He may not be lucky enough to have a true mate, but he wanted a mate, someone who would be his partner and share his or her life with him. He could not imagine someone like Theo ever agreeing to be turned, so he chose to ignore his advances.

Pretending not to have heard Theo, Gunnolf said, "We could give the school one last try before we head back."

"That Translator swindled me. The man had to be making stuff up—either that or the members of that one tribe imbibe mind-altering substances. Do you really believe that, of all things, they found a _dire wolf_ in their forest?"

"No, but isn't it an odd coincidence that they found a wolf? Worth looking into."

"First of all, I may not know as much about werewolves as I thought I did till recently, but I've never heard of a werewolf that could stay as a wolf for days on end. And secondly, which is actually the more important point of the two, right until about two minutes ago weren't you pestering me about returning to Bleidd?"

"We're going back with bad news. When Draco questions me I'd like to sound confident that we left no stone unturned," said Gunnolf, admitting the truth after some hesitation.

"Makes sense," said Theo. Silently he acknowledged that they were only indulging in delaying tactics at this point. Like Gunnolf, he too was dreading being the bearer of bad news. He had never feared Draco before; at worst, he had thought Draco was a fool to voluntarily join the Death Eaters when he did. His friend was different now; there was something decidedly dangerous and wild about Draco now that unnerved Theo just as much as it inspired confidence in him.

"If nothing else, we'll find out what kind of creature gets mistaken for a dire wolf in these parts. So what's the plan? Come up with some bullshit excuse to be on the school grounds and take a quick look around for ourselves?"

"Basically, yes."

"Alright then, Mr. Beefcake. You can apparate us to the Mountains of the Moon while I come up with that bullshit excuse," said Theo with a wink, holding his arms out for Gunnolf.


	30. Chapter 30

Hermione tossed about the bed, kicking off the bed covers. It was hard to sleep when every time she closed her eyes she saw flashes of what felt like someone else's life. Even with her eyes open, as she looked down the length of her naked, sweat covered body she could see a blond head between her legs, grey eyes sparkling as they watched her. It wasn't real, _he_ wasn't actually here. She tried but could not just blink him away from her memories.

She sighed.

"Yours," she said out loud, remembering the promise she had made to him.

_Mate. _

She could not understand why it hurt to want to forget him. The she-wolf was correct; Draco Malfoy had proven himself unworthy. She needed someone who would **properly **bond with her and never abandon her in her time of need the way Draco had.

A part of her protested at these thoughts, but despite sensing that something wasn't quite right Hermione struggled to see the flaw in her logic.

* * *

Draco sat up in bed, his heart thumping. His eyes wildly cast about the room until they rested upon the bundled forms of his sons. They were okay. He relaxed a little. If only he had some way of checking on his mate, he thought ruefully.

He left his bed knowing sleep would not come to him now. He would have preferred to go out on a run but did not want to be away from his pups while he was feeling this way. He decided to do some reading instead.

Draco's fingers caressed the spines of the books left behind by Hermione. His fingers trailed the bindings of the books remembering how eagerly she had devoured their meagre offerings. He had never thought it possible to miss anyone the way he missed his witch. It wasn't even anything to do with the mating instinct; he just wanted to see her, know she was safe.

He sighed.

The goddess had shown herself to be abundant in her generosity to him ever since he had been marked as one of her creatures. With that thought in mind, Draco closed his eyes and offered a silent prayer.

_Luna, watch over my mate. Return her safely to me._


	31. Chapter 31

"Everything okay?" asked Draco as he crossed paths with Cora.

"All according to plan," replied Cora.

He would have to wait for a detailed report from Cora when they spoke in private later, but he had confirmation that their plan to deliver Ginny to the Order had gone off without a hitch.

Draco reached into his pocket and fondled the concealed communication mirror expectantly. It was only a matter of time before he would have news on Hermione.

* * *

Nearly eighteen hours had passed since Cora's return and Draco had yet to hear from someone in the Order of the Phoenix. He restlessly paced about the room leaving everyone around him feeling nervous.

"You're sure the handover went smoothly?" he asked Cora for the fifth time in the past hour.

"Yes," said Cora, beginning to repeat once more her narration of what had taken place. "I checked the surroundings for spies when we got there then gave her a wand. She sent a patronus and we waited for them to send someone. One of her brothers arrived, he asked her many security questions; he did not seem to believe that it was her, that she was alive. Once they both confirmed that they were whom they claimed to be, she introduced him as Bill. I gave her the satchel with the items you packed for the Order. They left first, he disapparated with her. I rechecked the surroundings for spies—there were no other scents—and then, I left."

Cora did her best to leave the irritation out of her voice even though her patience with Draco had worn thin around twenty minutes ago. Knowing his current state, she knew it would be foolish to anger the young alpha right now.

"Why haven't they contacted us as yet?" asked Draco. He stared at the mirror in his hand, willing for someone from the Order to appear but was only greeted by his own reflection.

Draco did not know what to do with himself. He had not heard from the Order, Theo or Gunnolf. He had flooed Pansy hoping for news of Theo or his mother, but that call had taken an unexpected turn.

_"Contraceptive potion?"_

_"Yes."_

_"I know you were bad at Potions but surely even you could manage something as simple as a—"_

_"Don't be daft. Of course, I can brew the contraceptive potion. If only such a thing were still legal."_

_"What do you mean?" _

_"By Salazar, Draco! It's a good thing I adore you as much as I do or I'd hex you right now. They passed a Procreation Law expecting us to reproduce like bunnies. How're we supposed to do that if we're using contraceptives?"_

_"So contraceptives are illegal now?"_

_"Um, they have been for a while, yeah—and you don't even want to know what they do to witches who have performed an abortion. Don't give me that look. Unlike you werewolves, the rest of us aren't as eager to have babies with whoever we've been shackled to. Gods, that's such a terrible expression to use now because it's literally what's happening with some witches," she said, shuddering. "Theo usually gets me the potion when I need it—can't have the stuff lying around, I don't trust the house elves not to report me. Not that he's very eager to have children with me, but my _dear_ husband would welcome any opportunity to punish me, I'm sure."_

_"Pans, do you think it's safe for you to be talking—"_

_"Oh that," she waved her hand dismissively. "The Ministry witch in charge of monitoring the Nott floos is related to the Parkinsons. Her situation is barely better than mine. I share my stock of the potion with her and in exchange she erases records of my more sensitive floo calls, provided I'm not trying to overthrow the government," she said with a wink._

_"I believe we have the necessary ingredients. I'll have it brewed for you, but how do I give it to you?"_

_"Just send it with your elf."_

_"What are you talking about, Pans? You know we have no elves here."_

_"Honestly, Drakie Poo! How do you expect me to believe Purebloods aren't superior when you act like this? I don't remember you being this stupid before! I'm talking about your personal elf. What was its name... Winky... Dobby...? Whatever—Even if Lucius struck you off the family tree, your personal elf is still bound to you. I don't have mine anymore. That bastard, Theosophus, had poor Millie's head chopped off the first time he caught her doing something for me that wasn't in line with his orders—he said it should serve as a lesson in obedience for me. _

_"Anyway, have your elf bring me the potion when it's ready—it should be familiar enough with Nott Mansion to come and go undetected. Be sure to order it not to mention the potion or who it's been to see to anyone else."_

Draco felt pretty foolish for having forgotten about his elf. Truth be told, Mipsy had been just another possession that came with his name. He realised there was a lot he could have done using his elf—for example, he could have easily passed messages to his mother using the elf. As a Malfoy elf, Mipsy would undoubtedly be loyal to Lucius, the patriarch of the family; but as his personal elf, Draco's orders would always supersede all others.

He would wait until a late hour to call upon his elf, so no one noticed his absence.

"Draco, I believe someone's trying to contact you right now," said Oskar, drawing attention to the mirror faintly glowing in Draco's hand.

Upon drawing the small mirror close to his face, Draco was startled by the nearly unrecognisable face peering back at him.

"Malfoy," the other man greeted.

"Potter," said Draco in return. He was shocked by the haggard appearance of his former nemesis. With his gaunt face and its careworn expression, dark circles and deep lines around his eyes, his scraggly beard and wild hair, the man in the mirror resembled an inmate serving a life sentence in Azkaban more than the Harry Potter he remembered from Hogwarts. It was hard to believe this man was the same age as him.

"I see your grooming habits still leave a lot to be desired."

Potter's face took on a wry smile that made him look even more pitiful somehow.

"And here Ginny's been telling us how much you've changed."

Draco shrugged it off. Some things would never change, like his rivalry with Potter.

"I've been expecting to hear from you for a while now," said Draco accusingly.

"Sorry for taking as long as we did. We thought Ginny had been executed when she was captured. It was quite a shock to have her return, to say nothing of all the things she had to tell us. We were—"

"Yes, Potter. You can fill me in on the specifics of your reunion later," he snapped at Potter impatiently. "What of Hermione?"

Potter did not need to say the words; the wretched look on his face said it all.

"Malfoy, we've spent the last twelve hours getting in touch with every Order member and contact. No one's heard from Hermione; we didn't even know she was alive till Ginny said so."

All this time Draco had hoped Hermione was somewhere safely tucked away with the Order. Despite all signs pointing to some kind of foul play involving Fenrir, he had hoped his mate was safe.

"Where could she be?"

"I don't know," Potter replied with a shake of his head. "You have no idea what an emotional rollercoaster the last twenty-four hours have been for me. First, I receive a patronus telling me that Ginny's alive. Then Ginny gets here and tells us this fantastical tale of how Hermione's not only been alive this whole time, but that you helped her escape nearly a month ago and she was supposed to be back with the Order. I cannot express how Ron and I felt every time we saw a patronus arrive today only to deliver the disappointing news that they had no info on Hermione... It's like we lost her all over again."

"She _has_ to be with someone in the Order. Where else could she be? The Death Eaters don't have her, I've checked. She left us because she believed she was meant to fight beside you in this twice-damned war. So, where is she, Potter?" he demanded, slamming his fist against the wall.

"Ginny told us about you—I mean, about Hermione and you, and about the twins. It's all _incredible_. I've barely been able to digest the fact that Hermione has babies, let alone that it's with you!" Potter straightened his glasses. "I hear she was actually happy about the babies... I can't imagine Hermione abandoning anyone, let alone her own children. If she hasn't reached out to either one of us, I have to assume the worst, Malfoy. It's most likely that she's—"

"Don't you **dare** finish that sentence, Potter, or I swear I'll hunt you down and rip your throat out. She's not—" He could not say it, refused to even think that way. "Hermione's out there, somewhere, and for some reason she's unable to contact either one of us, but she is alive."

He tried to sound confident, but he sounded like a man desperately trying to convince himself of such a possibility.

"She's alive. She has to be," he insisted. "I would feel it if she wasn't," he said, too upset to care that Potter had once again caught him in a moment of vulnerability.

Both men went silent, each appearing deep in thought. Cora clearing her throat in the background finally broke the silence.

"Why did they believe Ginny was dead?"

Draco shook off his morbid thoughts and considered Cora's question.

"That's right, Potter. I can understand why you may have believed Hermione to be dead, knowing what we know about what happens to Muggleborns, but why did you think Ginny was dead?" He hesitated a moment, uncomfortable about what he was about to say but seeing no way around it. "Surely you heard about the revel at Godric's Hollow."

Potter's eyes, dull until now, looked ablaze with a level of rage, which combined with his bedraggled appearance made him appear completely unhinged.

"We were informed that Riddle had already killed Ginny and the witch at the revel was just someone polyjuiced to look like her in a last ditch attempt to flush out Order members. There's no way we wouldn't have attempted a rescue if we had even the slightest inkling that Ginny was alive. I cannot even begin to imagine what she must have gone through that day—not only did she suffer at the hands of the Death Eaters, she believed we had abandoned her..."

"So that's twice Ginny has ended up being the victim as a result of the Order receiving bad intel," pointed out Draco.

"That's right. It was Ginny specifically that ended up—" Potter looked like he had not considered this before. "Do you think this could be something more personal? Like someone was after Ginny in particular?"

"Hermione suspected it may be the case and I think it's a fair assumption. The night they were captured, Hermione said she noticed the wards were only triggered after Ginny cast a spell."

"Oh. I don't believe Ginny's realised that as yet."

"Potter, Ginny was—" Draco paused, unsure how much he ought to tell Potter about his fiancée's mental state during her time at Bleidd. "Let's just say Ginny wasn't herself. I don't know how much she's disclosed about what she's been through"—Potter's expression suggested it wasn't much—"but, she's ... ah ... _survived_ a lot. More than you'd think possible."

"When you say _survived_, you mean to imply that Godric's Hollow wasn't all of it?"

"Draco," Cora interrupted, "perhaps we ought to let Ginny decide what she wishes to share?"

Draco looked from Cora back to Potter.

"Cora's right, but I think you should know that there was more, a whole lot more. When she came here, it wasn't just her body that was broken. She's shown tremendous improvement recently, but she's still—Look, it's probably best you speak with our mediwitch, Cora. That was her in the background, just now. Cora's been taking care of Ginny since she arrived at Bleidd so she's the right person to talk to. She's not a mind healer but she's familiar with Ginny's medical history for the duration of her captivity. She'll be able to provide you with some dos and don'ts so you're better prepared to meet Ginny's current needs. My only advice is that you don't expect to get any reliable information from her unless you have access to an exceptionally good legilimens."

Potter nodded. "I'm going to call Molly and Poppy so they can hear whatever your mediwitch has to say." He hugged himself and let out a long sigh. "We're going to do everything we can for Ginny."

Draco nodded in understanding.

"Keep asking people on your side about Hermione, Potter. If she isn't being held by the Death Eaters or hiding with the Order there's only one other person with any motive for taking Hermione prisoner and that's Fenrir Greyback. But going after him for answers right now will have some grave consequences for my pack so I need to be certain first."

"This has been such a crazy day." Potter scratched his beard. "I find out that Ginny's alive and someone in the Order wants, or at least wanted, her captured. Hermione's a mother, and she's missing. But you, Draco Malfoy, somehow you have ended up being the biggest surprise of all. The boy-who-started-the-war now wants to help the Order." He took off his glasses and appeared to set them aside. "It's all a bit too much for me to process."

Draco was a little surprised Potter was taking him at face value; he had expected to spend time trying to convince Potter that this wasn't some elaborate trap. He was almost disappointed by Potter's easy acceptance.

"I am not being a gullible fool, Malfoy," said Potter, making Draco wonder if the wizard was a better legilimens than anyone had ever given him credit for.

"I've heard a few stories recently that make me think you may no longer be as committed to the Death Eater cause as you were back in our school days. We've heard about what your aunt did to you. It caused quite the sensation... had people talking about it for days. I guess, till now, most thought they'd be spared if their blood was _pure _enough or their vaults had enough galleons. And then they heard about what was done to you... it made them pause to think about how your impeccable lineage, overflowing coffers, and dedication to the cause was still not enough to save you. Believe it or not, the past couple of weeks you've served as a better poster child for the resistance than I've ever been. For the first time in all these years that we've been in hiding I feel like the people are finally waking up to the reality of what it means to give free rein to the likes of Riddle and his followers."

Considering the recent revelations concerning Ginny, Draco did not have faith in Potter's sources and would have questioned everything he was saying if Theo had not already informed him of the same.

"In all those stories you heard about me, I'm not sure if you also heard that I haven't been a Malfoy in years, Potter. Not since I turned into a werewolf."

Draco stared at Potter challengingly. In certain circles, being a werewolf would be considered worse than being a Death Eater such was the rampant prejudice against his kind in their society.

"It's your—_the other _side that cares about blood purity. I don't care about you being a werewolf, but I'm not sure how to react to your intentions to claim Hermione as your mate. Everyone knows how smart Hermione is, but I don't believe they realise how remarkably resilient she can be. I think what I need is to hear from her mouth that this thing between the two of you wasn't just her way of coping with a horrible situation. From what Ginny tells me you, at least, appear to genuinely care about Hermione, enough that you let her go. That counts for something with me.

"I'm often scolded for acting impulsively. Hermione especially hated my inability to stop long enough to think things through. But as much as she likes to plan things, I like to follow my gut, and right now it's telling me to trust you. So that's just what I'm going to do."

"Fair enough," said Draco with a curt nod. "But, just to be clear, I don't want to help the Order. I want to do whatever it takes to get Hermione back and ensure the destruction of the Dark Lord and his empire. If helping the Order accomplishes this, so be it."

Potter eyes sparkled when he smiled. "You know, _Draco_, I think I'm going to enjoy us working on the same side."


	32. Chapter 32

"It has to be Fenrir, right?" asked Draco, soon as he was done with Potter. "I can't think of anyone else with a motive to secretly hold Hermione as a prisoner."

He stopped himself from dwelling on what those reasons were.

"It would seem that way by process of elimination, but, unless he's holding her right here on the castle grounds, I don't see how," replied Oskar.

"You're certain he hasn't been away even once in all this time?"

There was no need to ask, Oskar's information was always reliable and he had already given Draco his assurances more than once that day, but fresh out of leads, Draco felt compelled to go over everything once again to be certain they had not overlooked anything.

"My sources confirmed the same thing as yours: Greyback hasn't left Bleidd since he returned injured after the last full moon. He's been staying close to the pack, in particular the ones loyal to him and the ones he sired. From what I've seen for myself and gathered from others, Greyback making an effort to be more of an alpha to the pack is the only suspicious thing he's done so far."

Fenrir was in all likelihood feeling the strain of the weakened pack bonds because apart from ignoring Draco—which frankly wasn't the worst thing Fenrir had ever done to him—the alpha was making an effort to bond with his pack.

"His efforts are too little too late. He thinks sleeping huddled together in one room with his omegas and sharing meals with his betas will be enough to undo all the damage he's done—He never has and never will deserve to be alpha. That brute's only good on the battlefield," said Cora, her lip curled in disgust.

Oskar ignored the interruption. "If Greyback was keeping Hermione he would need someone he trusted to watch over her. No one from his trusted circle has left Bleidd in all this time. In fact with all the quality time they've been spending with Greyback, if it was any other alpha I would've suspected that Greyback was trying to calm an upset pack."

"Why would they be upset now? More importantly, why would Fenrir care now when he was okay with signing us up for slaughter in the Dark Lord's poorly planned overseas missions or letting the Death Eaters gut us on the pretext of studying our kind? I don't buy it. There has to be another explanation for his behaviour," said Draco.

"Sure," replied Oskar, "but that's a different discussion from the one concerning Hermione."

"Forgive me for speaking out of turn," started Cora as politely as possible, "I mean no offense, but can we be certain Hermione's still..."

Oskar stepped in front of Cora, shielding her from Draco.

"I think we can trust Draco's judgement on this, Cora. Take it from someone who had a true mate once; your wolf just knows when your mate passes on..."

Oskar looked away and for the briefest of moments the usually self-possessed Elder looked more disconsolate than one would think possible.

"Your wolf has known your mate. Even if you didn't bond with her, your wolf would know if she was no more. Your wolf would mourn her passing... There's no mistaking that grief for any other."

Draco looked at Oskar, for the first time seeing him as someone other than his sire and their Elder. Here was a man who, like him, once had a true mate. Luna had blessed the two men to be among the lucky few who found their true mate in their lifetimes. As a young pup, new to the realities of what it meant to be a werewolf, he had never fully appreciated how fortunate he was when his wolf first mated with Hermione. However, there was also a flipside to it. Even though he did not complete the mate bond with Hermione, he was constantly fighting off feelings of fear and anxiety from not having her beside him. Not knowing where or how she was made it worse. A chill crept up his spine trying to imagine the misery and despondence that would come with _knowing _his mate was no more.

"If your instinct tells you she's alive, we should listen to it," said Oskar, looking at Draco with all the compassion and understanding Draco had come to expect of his sire.

"Alright, then we need to consider the possibility that she was injured during the fight with Fenrir. She could be stuck somewhere behind enemy lines, which is why she hasn't contacted the Order," suggested Cora.

"Merlin! Not this again," groaned Draco in frustration. "No doubt Hermione's a capable witch, but even armed with a wand, the idea of her besting Fenrir during the full moon... Sounds farfetched," he said with a shake of his head.

They had discussed this theory before. Draco had been willing to consider it as a possibility when they thought Hermione might have had some help.

"Cora, did you not say that Hermione had to be among friends or she wouldn't have managed to beat the alpha? Well, now that we know for a fact that she isn't with the Order can we finally give this theory of Hermione fighting Fenrir a rest?"

"I know what I said before, but I believe I was wrong. Think about it, Draco. Is it honestly that hard to imagine that Hermione could hold her own against Fenrir? Even if you're sceptical, like me, of Oskar's belief that Hermione is some 'Promised' were who's going to usher in a new age of tolerance and harmony, surely you must realise she's not the average witch if your wolf chose her as your mate? You've been a werewolf long enough to know our ways, our wolves only seek mates who are our equal, if not better than us. And if you're an alpha what does that say about Hermione?"

It was true, social hierarchies were practically instinct in their kind. His wolf always protested mating with the pack's bitches as he found them unworthy of his seed.

"Setting aside the lore, let's just examine some of the facts. That witch achieved the rare distinction of not only surviving mating with a wolf, she also successfully carried the twins to term despite suffering the effects of whatever perverted magic was used to shorten the gestation period. And then there was the incident with Ginny. If she could do that accidentally to a friend why couldn't she do the same deliberately to Fenrir?"

Cora raised some valid points and Draco had not forgotten the training session Hermione had blasted him off his feet with some accidental magic. Yet it wasn't enough to ease the worry that plagued him.

"So the best case scenario you can come up with is my mate's lying injured and friendless within enemy territory, and I'm supposed to take comfort in that idea?" he asked scornfully.

"No, but I wish you'd consider other possibilities for why no one's heard from Hermione before you go charging after Fenrir like you've been itching to do. There's more at stake here than a missing mate, especially since you chose to ignore our counsel when you willingly let her go without bonding with her. You didn't think about the pack, or even your pups, when you decided to help her escape—We've suffered far too many years from the actions of one selfish alpha, I don't wish to have misery heaped upon the pack just because the next one is a different kind of selfish!"

Cora's eyes went wide and her mouth snapped shut soon as she realised she had spoken her dangerous thoughts aloud. She fell to her knees, head hung low and eyes cast down. Her whole body trembled with fear as she waited to feel the full brunt of Draco's wrath.

Draco's face was a mask of cold fury. When he spoke his voice was low, his tone measured and even. "How _dare_ you! Do you have any idea what it's taken for me to sit back and wait for answers when my wolf wants to pummel the living daylights out of Fenrir, be it about taking off with my pups or showing up smelling like my mate? All this time I've kept my head down and pursued other options because I understand how much my actions could adversely affect the pack."

Cora remained silent, continuing to display submissiveness, though it did little to pacify his wolf. Draco would have punished Cora for her insolence, except she had spoken the truth. By letting Hermione go he was culpable for any ill that may have befallen her.

Seething, Draco sucked in air through gritted teeth. "I don't need this thestral dung right now," he said to no one in particular. "I need answers. Where's Hermione? What happened to her? Right now questioning Fenrir seems like the only hope I have for getting any answers."

Fenrir had to know something about Hermione's disappearance. He could not have picked up Hermione's scent unless he came in direct contact with either Hermione or something of hers

"If Greyback has taken Hermione he needs someone to watch over her," said Oskar. "I fail to see Greyback's involvement if no one he can trust has left Bleidd—"

Draco was rapidly losing what little patience he had left. It was clear that they only had one valid option to explore—Fenrir—but they were still wasting time rehashing the same theories over and over again while coming to no new conclusion. They agreed that Hermione was only useful to Fenrir alive and Fenrir could only depend on someone from the pack to do his bidding. If he were holding Hermione as a prisoner, someone would need to leave Bleidd to check on her and provide her with food and water on a regular basis.

"—unless he has some Death Eater or Black Cloak minding her for him."

Despite the situation, Draco snorted. The idea of any Death Eater, no matter how low in ranking, taking orders from someone they deemed to be a 'half-breed' was ludicrous.

Cora cleared her throat, drawing the attention of the men. She nervously shifted her weight from one knee to the other.

"What is it, Cora?" asked Oskar.

"Sorry to interrupt, sir, but I just thought of someone else Fenrir could've asked to help him. Someone we only recently found out about."

"Who?"

Cora nervously looked up at Draco. "The—the elf. We know the elf helped with the pups. Maybe the elf is an accomplice of Fenrir?"

The silence in the room was heavy as they considered such a possibility. Draco was practically dizzy from connecting what he had previously thought were random dots.

Draco did not waste any more time on speculation. There was a more reliable way to get some answers.

"Mipsy."

A wrinkly old elf, dressed in only a pillow cover bearing the Malfoy insignia, appeared before them.

"Oh master!" wailed the elf upon seeing Draco. Tears freely flowed from eyes that were too large for his face and mucous dripped from his hawk nose. "Oh master, you finally called old Mipsy! Mipsy is a good elf. Mipsy waits so long for master to call."

"Yes, yes," said Draco impatiently. He had never cared for elves and right now, he was in no mood to console a blubbering elf just to get him to perform the simple task of relaying a message to his mother, enquiring about the recent activities of the Malfoy elves.

"There's something I want you to do, Mipsy," he started but was cut off by the excited elf.

"Oh yes, master. Mipsy is a good elf. Mipsy does what master wants. Mipsy takes good care of master's babies even if they bring shame to the house of Malfoy."

Draco did a double take at the elf's words.

"Mipsy, have you seen my sons?"

The elf nodded enthusiastically. "Yes, Mipsy takes good care of master's babies. Mipsy takes better care of the babies than the filthy Mudblood. Filthy Mudblood only cries and sleeps in filth."

Draco's gut twisted painfully. "What filthy Mudblood, Mipsy?" he asked with bated breath.

"The filthy Mudblood in the cellar. The Mudblood sleeps in filth till Mipsy cleans her. Bad Mudblood only cries and begs Mipsy to be a bad elf, tells Mipsy to disobey orders. But Mipsy doesn't listen to the bad Mudblood. Mipsy is a good elf."

"What cellar? Are you talking about some prisoner in the dungeons of Malfoy Manor?"

The elf shook his head. "No, master. Not Malfoy Manor. He called it Wolf Fort."

"Who called it Wolf Fort?"

"Master's master."

"My master?"

Draco was struggling to make sense of what the elf was saying. Was he referring to the Dark Lord?

"Yes, master's master, the werewolf. He takes Mipsy to Uganda. He tells Mipsy to take care of the filthy Mudblood. He rewards Mipsy; brings master's babies to Mipsy because Mipsy is a good elf. Mipsy takes care of filthy Mudblood. Mipsy takes care of master's babies. Mipsy even takes care of master's master after the bad Mudblood attacked him."

"Mipsy, I've having a hard time following what you're saying. Be a good elf and don't speak unless I tell you to. I'm going to ask you some questions and I want you to nod if the answer is yes and shake your head if it's a no. Okay?"

The elf nodded.

"Is the werewolf Fenrir Greyback?"

The elf nodded again.

"Fenrir brought my sons to you and asked you to look after them?"

Another nod.

"And there's a Mudblood that Fenrir is keeping prisoner?"

The elf shook his head, then nodded, then shook it again.

"Which is it? You may speak."

"The bad Mudblood attacked the werewolf and escaped, master."

"But the Mudblood was Fenrir's prisoner till then?"

The elf nodded.

"When did the Mudblood escape? You may speak."

"On the third of this month, master."

"The night of the full moon," he whispered to himself.

Even though it wasn't a question, the elf nodded in response.

Draco dreaded asking the next question but needed to confirm it all the same.

"Mipsy, was the Mudblood the mother of my sons?"

The elf bobbed its head one more than once.

All his fears realised in the moment Draco's control finally snapped. He lunged at his elf, intent on ripping him apart for his role in Hermione's captivity. Mid-leap, in the blink of an eye, he unintentionally transformed into his wolf.

Landing on his feet Draco looked up in annoyance. Instead of lying crushed under his paws, the elf was sprawled on his arse some feet away.

"Easy there, pup."

With his hands held stretched out in front of him, Oskar appeared to be the one responsible for depriving him of his prey.

"The elf won't be able to answer any more of your questions if you kill it now, Draco," said the old alpha, trying to reason with him.

Draco's wolf was still trying to decide between seeking satisfaction by killing the elf or heeding the wise words of his sire when his human side retook charge of the situation. Willing his body to return to its human form, Draco assured his wolf that when the time was right he would deal with every one of those involved in the abduction and imprisonment of his mate.

"You're still my fucking elf, why in Hades have you been taking orders from Fenrir?" Draco demanded of the cowering elf.

"Mipsy doesn't understand why master is angry with Mipsy. Mipsy is a good el—"

"You're not a good elf. You're a bad elf, Mipsy—the worst. You helped Fenrir hurt someone I love very much."

The elf sobbed loudly.

"Mipsy is sorry. Mipsy is very very sorry, master. Mipsy only does what the werewolf says. The werewolf is master's master, so he is also Mipsy's master. Mipsy is a bad elf if Mipsy does not follow master's orders."

Fenrir was able to command his elf because he was still Draco's alpha. It just added insult to injury knowing his own elf played a part in his mate's suffering. Worse still, Fenrir had succeeded in doing so because Draco had forgotten all about the wretched creature.

"Unless you wish to be banished to some realm where you will never get to see, let alone serve, another being in your life, you will tell me exactly what happened to Hermione, the mother of my pups, during the time she was Fenrir's prisoner."

The elf nodded.

Over the next half hour, they grilled the elf until he was able to provide them with a clearer picture of what had happened to Hermione. Throughout, Mipsy shook like a leaf fearing Draco, who was just barely holding it together.

They learnt that Hermione had been a prisoner at the Death Eater base in Uganda until the night of the full moon, when she somehow attacked Fenrir and escaped. The place was unplottable; the elf could only go there when accompanied by Fenrir. During his visits, Mipsy was required to prepare and serve Hermione her meals laced with a potion given to him by Fenrir—from its description, the potion had sounded like the version of Fero used by the pack.

They were angry about Hermione's abduction and her living conditions in the cellar, but they were most disturbed when they heard about the time Mipsy was asked to bring the twins before Fenrir, while he physically restrained an already bound and drugged Hermione. At that point, both Cora and Oskar had to stun and bind Draco just to get him to sit through the rest of the interrogation.

_"You're also a snake, Draco. You wait for the right time to strike,"_ Oskar had yelled at him more than once as they continued to drill the elf for every piece of useful information.

Draco clung to his sanity by repeating a single refrain in his head.

_She attacked the werewolf and escaped._

_She attacked the werewolf and escaped._

_She attacked the werewolf and escaped._

"To hell with this," Draco cursed aloud and turned to Mipsy. "Did he turn her?"

The elf gave him a confused stare.

"Mipsy does not understand, mas—"

"Shut up! Just tell me if Fenrir bit Hermione during the full moon."

The elf shook his head.

"Mipsy does not know. Mipsy was inside. The werewolf came to Mipsy bleeding. Mipsy did what the werewolf told Mipsy to do."

"Hermione's in Uganda? But then why hasn't she send a patronus to the Order?" wondered Cora.

"She doesn't necessarily have to still be there. The travel restrictions apply to Britain, she could have used any of the travel options available to leave Uganda," Draco pointed out.

"But why not send a patronus if she escaped?" asked Cora. "Uganda is neutral territory, as far as I know."

Was Hermione being overly cautious or was she too severely injured to produce a patronus? Draco asked himself.

"If she was turned, she would've gone feral," suggested Oskar.

"But she attacked him. If Fenrir sired her he could've simply compelled her to stop," argued Draco.

"True, but what are the odds that Hermione fought Greyback during the full moon and got away without being bitten?"

As much as Draco hated to consider the implications of Hermione being turned by Fenrir, it seemed to be the most likely scenario.

"Fenrir's going to pay for this," he swore.

"Yes," said Oskar in a reassuring tone, "Just not right now. As far as the situation with the pack is concerned, nothing's changed, Draco. You cannot get rid of Fenrir yet, even if you finally feel up to the task."

It took Oskar and Cora stunning Draco two more times and reinforcing his bindings before they were finally able to subdue the angry alpha.

* * *

The children bid Hermione goodnight and headed towards their dorms. Thanks to a Swahili-to-English translation guide from Akiki, the children could communicate with Hermione using some basic day-to-day use words. Bokamoso in particular was proving to be quite the linguist. She smiled as she remembered the look of exasperation on his face as he attempted to correct his friends when they fumbled with the foreign words. Watching the trio brought back fond memories of her own school days with Harry and Ron.

It wasn't all happy memories though. Sometimes when she watched the trio Hermione remembered her own children. She did not like thinking about them. It did not make sense why thinking of her sons upset her even more than thinking about Draco, but it did, to the point where she suspected she might have mauled Akiki earlier in the day just for broaching the subject of her children.

_"Forgive me," said Akiki averting his gaze when she caught him staring at the twin-wet spots on her blouse._

_Hermione shrugged her shoulders in indifference._

_"We understand why you want to rush home, but please, Hermione Granger, Uagadou welcomes you and your family. You can bring your baby here."_

The statement was innocent enough, and what some would call a generous offer, yet the reminder had brought on a full-blown panic attack. Palms sweating, heart racing, Hermione struggled to breathe. The she-wolf took control just before she lost consciousness. When she woke up she was alone, unaware of how much time had passed, and no explanation for why the room resembled the aftermath of some natural disaster.

It took Hermione most of the day, with some assistance from her three little helpers, to put the room back to its original state, though the children did not assist as much as stare slack-jawed as she cast nonverbal spells to repair the various items.

"How?" Kalisha, the ever-curious one, had asked her.

She hunched to bring her face in level to theirs and then rubbing her fingers together in front of their faces in a conspiratorial tone whispered, "Magic."

Kalisha and Bokamoso nearly tore the translation guide in their eagerness to look up the word. She failed to restrain a giggle at their baffled expressions when they did find it. The children caught on, and then they too joined in the giggles.

Now, as she sat by herself, Hermione pulled out the wolf shaped portkey and squeezed it in her fist, assuring herself it was real. She found herself doing this several times in the day since receiving it. Each time, she did a mental countdown to the days and hours before it activated and she could return home.

_But where is home? _

Not in England, not since she altered her parents' memories and made them want to pack up and leave for Australia.

_Harry and the Order?_

It's where she was supposed to be, where she would have been if not for... if not for certain events.

She would be accepted in the Order, welcomed even. They could be her pack, the way they were Remus' pack.

**_Bleidd._**

The she-wolf insisted on returning to Bleidd. It was where Fenrir was most probably hiding. She could never be free so long as her sire was alive.

_Pack_, echoed her human self. She needed a pack first. During her light-hearted moment with the children today, she experienced a brief instance of lucidity. For the first time, she could recognise how irrational her thoughts had been recently and understood why. The she-wolf was a mighty being, but she was also a ruthless predator who left unchecked would force Hermione to lose her humanity.

Hermione used to think that between her long standing friendship with Remus, the host of books she had read on the subject and all the insights she had received from Draco she knew what it meant to be a werewolf. She had no **fucking **clue. Not until she experienced the toxic mix of darkness and madness for herself. She finally understood why Remus feared the creature within him and why he had resisted Tonks for as long as he did. The wolf was a bloodthirsty being unable to distinguish between friend and foe. Hermione had a greater reason to fear the she-wolf because, unlike Remus, she could transform at will, her human half far too timid to control her beast.

A pack was the only cure for her fractured mind if she ever hoped to bring her two halves together, but returning to Bleidd in her current state was dangerous. There were no guarantees the she-wolf would stop her homicidal spree once she got started. Hermione shuddered as she vividly recalled wanting to kill Kalisha when she first saw her. It was only because she had been at death's door at the time that she did not have that child's blood on her hands.

She wasn't injured anymore and the she-wolf possessed not only physical strength but also the cunning to manipulate her human half. She was a ticking time bomb in her current state and as such needed to keep her distance from Wilbur and Martin for their safety.

Hermione forced herself to remember that first and foremost, she needed a pack. Her friends in the Order would accept her and through their bonds, she would conquer the darkness inside her.

_Pack._

_Pack._

_Pack_, she repeated over and over in her head. She would learn to control her beast and then return home. She knew where it was now.

Hermione had a wistful smile on her face as her mind drew the image of Draco awkwardly holding their sons and scowling at her for giggling after the twins had relieved themselves on him at the same time.


	33. Chapter 33

"That was a dirty trick you played on me," accused Hermione, staring at the totem in her hand.

Babjide's image in the floo let out a soft chuckle.

"You must forgive an old man his eccentricities, Ms Granger, especially when he means well. I understand that you are quite motivated to return to England, I only wanted to ensure you would give my suggestion proper consideration."

"You haven't a clue about my motivations," Hermione replied sternly, unaware that her eyes flashed a shade of golden yellow as she stared down at the Supreme Mugwump.

Babjide stared at her, dumbstruck for a moment. He leaned forward trying to get a better look. "You are a curious creature. There are so many questions I would like to—"

"I am not some specimen to be investigated," she warned.

"Come now, Ms Granger, just a few harmless questions. Not like I'm suggesting we cut you open and study your insides," he huffed indignantly, but moved back nevertheless.

"Why not? That's exactly what Voldemort's been doing and you appear to be okay with it because you get an effective fertility potion out of it."

Babjide spluttered.

"What are you even—How dare you—I'd never!"

"What? You didn't think you got your precious potion without some creatures being gutted along the way, did you?"

"Even **if** there was something unethical going on, you can't just accuse—"

"Oh no, it wasn't an accusation, Your Honour, just resigned acceptance that people will find ways to ignore atrocities so long as they benefit from it."

"Ms Granger, you most decidedly go too far! You cannot—"

Hermione cut him off to calmly state, "Don't tell me what I cannot do."

The Supreme Mugwump could not see how she stood with her arms pinned to her side, fists clenched so tight there was blood dripping from where her claws had pierced her palms. While she was able to keep the she-wolf in check, had the infuriating wizard been present there in person, nothing could have stopped the she-wolf from delivering a life-long lesson on what she could and could not do.

"Ms Granger, as part of a rebel group, I have no doubt that you have been led to believe certain things, however, let me reassure you the ICW has yet to be presented with any kind of evidence to substantiate any of your insinuations. We're aware of the existence of some sort of personal rivalry between Harry Potter and the self-declared _Lord_ Voldemort, but as far as we've been informed their feud is at most some kind of local power struggle—"

"You actually believe this is a local conflict even after Voldemort's Death Eaters attacked the Ministry in Bulgaria last year?" asked Hermione, adding a snarky, 'Your Honour' at the end.

"You've been misinformed, Ms Granger. The attack on the Bulgarian Ministry was committed by a group of rogue werewolves that have no known affiliation to the Death Eaters or Lord Voldemort."

If Babjide was being honest, the Death Eaters had effectively disseminated their propaganda overseas as well.

"Rogue werewolves who were somehow united in the task of attacking a foreign Ministry?"

"Ms Granger, you are yourself a prime example of the gaps in our knowledge of werewolves."

"Voldemort could provide you great insight on the workings of not only werewolves but other magical creatures as well. At their master's command the Death Eaters have butchered Merlin knows how many magical beings, conducting all sorts of horrific experiments on them in their ungodly quest to produce a new generation of powerful-yet-easily-controlled soldiers for Voldemort's evil army."

"We have heard of no wrongdoing—"

"No, of course not. Like so many others in the magical community you probably share the belief that not _all_ beings have the same right to life, liberty and dignity as humans, so there could be no wrongdoing when it comes to nonhumans!"

"Ms Granger, if you would just allow me to finish—"

"But it's foolish of me to expect you to care about the abuse of creatures when you've wilfully ignored the genocide of Muggleborns and the enslavement of Halfbloods in Britain these past few years!"

"Ms Granger," exclaimed Babjide, "These are some serious claims you're making, and it is the first I've heard of such things."

There was a good chance Babjide wasn't just another bureaucrat deliberately ignoring the ugly inconvenient truth. Only one way to be sure.

"What if you had proof?" she asked. "What if I could provide you incontestable proof of their wrongdoings?"

"If any one of those allegations turn out to be true, your little band of rebels would have the full support of the ICW."

"What do you mean by support? If all it involves is your stamp of approval, then it's not going to be worth the risk and trouble."

"What I mean, Ms Granger," said Babjide leaning forward and giving Hermione a pointed look, "is that _if_ you can bring us proof of any of the things you've alleged _then _Harry Potter would have the backing of all the nations in the ICW and your group would have our resources at your disposal in your fight against Lord Voldemort."

"It's been a war of attrition so far, Your Honour, and our numbers have dwindled greatly. We don't just need wands; we need men and women to wield those wands."

Babjide appeared to contemplate her request.

"How is it, Ms Granger, you did not have the support of the people if what you say is true?"

"It's Hitler and the policy of Appeasement all over again."

"I beg your pardon?"

"Just a Muggle reference," she said dismissively before providing a more direct answer to his question. "People made concessions to Voldemort's aggressive manoeuvres as a way of avoiding conflict, but all it did was let the Death Eaters expand their powers and control over Britain unchecked."

"And you still don't have the support of the people?"

Hermione sighed.

"Everyone thinks they'll do the right thing, when the truth is that most only choose to do the right thing when it's an easy choice."

"So it has been an easy choice for you?"

"I'm a Muggleborn, Your Honour; I didn't get to choose sides in this war."

"We heard about this _pure_ blood ideology but never gave it too much thought. Every community has people who are intolerant of those who are different from them, their reasons may differ, but they exist everywhere. Still, the idea of classifying magic based on parentage, rather than the purpose it was employed for, was so outright ridiculous, I could never imagine anyone taking it too seriously."

"Well, the Death Eaters believe in it firmly enough that they insist only the Purebloods have the right to magic. Muggleborn children and their families now receive an Avada instead of an invite to Hogwarts when they turn eleven. Halfbloods are used as house elves—unless some Death Eater takes a fancy to them, in which case they're condemned to a life where they wish they were dead. And none of this means the Purebloods have it any better if they're found guilty of being a Blood Traitor."

The sympathetic expression on Babjide's face slowly changed to disbelief. She could not fault him for being sceptical of her claims. Five years ago, she too would have found it hard to believe that their society would devolve to the extent it had.

"I don't expect you to take my word for any of this. I will get you your proof, but you better be prepared to deliver on your end."

"Ms Granger, a piece of advice? Do not alienate potential allies by threatening them. May the gods show you favour in your mission," he said and concluded the call before she could respond.

* * *

"Stop stupefying me," yelled Draco having observed Oskar raise his hand out of the corner of his eyes. "I'm angry, but that doesn't mean I'm going to rush out of here like a raging hippogriff. I'm willing to hear reason if you're willing to do the same."

Oskar and Cora hesitated a moment but nodded.

"Can't you see? I have to do something. You can't still expect me to wait for the external threat to be neutralised before I go after Fenrir!" insisted Draco. "Not after knowing what we do now."

"I understand—"

"You don't understand anything, Cora," snapped Draco. "You've been the pack's mediwitch for how many years now?" He did not wait for her response. "You've seen what it's like for a new wolf even with a pack. Now imagine what it must be like for Hermione to be stuck in some unknown territory for nearly a month without a pack."

For the love of Luna, even Oskar had stated that Hermione was most likely feral by now. He tried not to think about the mental hell Hermione must have lived through the past month, it would only enrage him further at a time he needed to show his pack he was capable of keeping his wits about himself.

"Don't ask me to abandon my mate in this manner." Draco was nearly pleading even though, as their alpha, he could have easily ordered them to stand down.

"We aren't asking you to abandon her, just don't go after Fenrir yet," expressed Cora.

"It's all one and the same. We all know that there are only two ways I leave Bleidd—either as a rogue or as alpha of the pack, after I've killed Fenrir."

It was only a few days ago that Draco had struggled with the idea of killing Fenrir, not anymore. The alpha had crossed some kind of unspoken line of the werewolf code when he chose to steal Hermione the way he did. Fenrir went as far as using their pups to get Hermione to do Merlin knows what... He could not afford the luxury of waiting until he was ready to deal with Fenrir.

"You know you couldn't just leave Bleidd once you killed Fenrir, you'd have the Death Eaters to deal with..."

"What are you suggesting I do then?"

"There has to be a middle ground," said Oskar, even though he had no suggestions for what that could be.

"No, not anymore. This is it. I'm willing to fight for my pack and do what needs to be done for the good of the pack; but don't ask me to sacrifice the welfare of my mate. Not over Fenrir, damn it!"

He futilely struggled to free himself of the magical bindings. He could've commanded them to release him, but flexing against the restrictive bindings gave him the temporary satisfaction of feeling like he was doing something.

"What are we even waiting for at this point? We know Fenrir plans to leave Bleidd with the pack some time soon. We also know he will most likely get rid of everyone he finds untrustworthy. Why allow ourselves to be forced into a weak defensive position when we can have the advantage of the element of surprise with a pre-emptive strike?" he reasoned.

"But what happens afterwards? How do you protect us from the Dark Lord?" asked Cora.

Restrained as he was by Oskar and Cora, it was hard to remember that they weren't actually opposed to him killing Fenrir. They needed assurance that the pack would be protected from the fallout of Fenrir's death. He could not kill Fenrir without having a plan for what came next.

Staying at Bleidd would no longer be an option. They would be sitting ducks for the Death Eaters and there was no knowing what Fenrir may have already shared with the Dark Lord of the pack's inner workings and the castle's defences. But then, where could they go?

There was no place in Britain safe from the Death Eaters, and that was not taking into account people's bigotry when it came to werewolves. Their partnership with the Order was far too new and fragile to expect the Order to hide the pack. For one the pack was too big and would be a strain on already limited resources, and more importantly, the Order would in all likelihood refuse, believing it to be a ploy by Voldemort to get his wolves into the henhouse.

Even if they did find a place in Britain the pack would be welcomed to stay, Draco could not stick around to ensure their safety, as he was eager to set out on his search for Hermione. As the new alpha of the pack, he could not abandon them to go to Uganda, but he also refused to abandon Hermione.

What if he took the pack with him?

"We could all go to Uganda like Fenrir planned to..." He was still thinking and did not mean to say it out loud, but now that he had, Draco could not see anything wrong with the idea. What reason did they even have to stay in Britain anymore?

"Britain isn't safe while the Death Eaters are in control, but even before the Dark Lord's reign, things were never great for werewolves. Uganda on the other hand is neutral territory. The locals haven't pledged allegiance to any side in the war and based on what I've heard from Theo, they're unlikely to join the Dark Lord. Theo also said the magical community in Uganda is more open-minded about creatures than people are here... No one would think to look for us there and even if they did learn that we were hiding in Uganda, it would be too much trouble for them to come after us. The pack could get a fresh start and I could freely search for my mate."

"Aren't you going to wait for Gunnolf?" asked Cora.

"After what we learnt from Mipsy, I think Gunnolf and Theo must've stumbled upon some evidence of Hermione being held captive at the Death Eater base in Uganda. I hope the reason they haven't returned is that they've found a lead for her... I expect Gunnolf back in time for the full moon tomorrow, no matter where they've reached in their investigation."

"So you're planning to challenge Fenrir during the full moon?" asked Oskar. Draco nodded and Oskar returned the nod with a look of approval. "Yes, it is right that a fight like this take place under the auspices of the goddess."

Draco felt ashamed to have not considered it; he had a more practical reason for wanting to fight Fenrir during the full moon. The Death Eaters knew their routine well enough, they would not expect to see any pack members during the full moon or the day after, when their bodies recovered from the strain of the transformation. Their absence would not be noticed until the pack was long gone from Bleidd.

"I wish to speak with the pack first," said Draco. "I would like them to decide whether they will choose to follow me or stay here. I won't force anyone to bond with me."

"They won't have much of a choice in the matter once you kill Fenrir," Cora pointed out.

"If the pack doesn't wish to leave Bleidd with me, I will leave by myself. Gunnolf can finally ascend to alpha like he was supposed to and lead the pack. I won't challenge him and I'm sure no one would object to Gunnolf being in charge. The pack can decide their fate."

"You'd risk becoming an outcast yourself?" Cora looked visibly shocked.

"My mate has been surviving by herself for nearly a month as an outcast, I'm willing to risk my sanity for however long it takes me to find her," Draco stated matter-of-factly. "I owe her that much."

* * *

"Go home?" asked Kalisha, brow furrowed in confusion.

They were walking towards the forest where Hermione planned to spend the evening playing with the children in the hopes of exhausting herself. There was going to be a full moon tonight, her first one since she was turned. As the hour of moonrise drew nearer, Hermione was filled with both excitement and dread over what the night would bring. As a precaution, she was going to spend the night isolated in the cave the children had first found her in. She only needed to make it through the night; her portkey would activate the following day and she could return to Britain, back to the Order.

Kalisha's question surprised Hermione. Their teachers must have discussed her departure with them because they definitely did not hear about it from her. She had hoped to slip away quietly, avoiding the uncomfortable goodbyes. Leaving them was going to be hard enough without also having to deal with the inevitable questions.

Yes," said Hermione with a nod, responding to Kalisha's question, "I have business I need to take care of."

"War?" asked Bokamoso, making the motion of someone firing a gun.

Hermione had learned from Akiki that the young boy's tribe lived in the middle of one of the most conflict-ridden regions of the Congo. Though his village was magically shielded from the activities of Muggles, the people in Bokamoso's tribe had seen enough of guns, and what Muggles did with them, to associate the weapon with war.

"Yes, my little friend," she replied with another nod.

Since the children did not speak English, she tried to use simple words and gestures as much as possible while communicating with them.

"Friend?" confirmed Bokamoso pointing to himself. He grinned widely when she nodded again.

In turn, she pointed at Mpho and Kalisha repeating the word 'friend'. The three children grinned with pride.

"Come back?" Mpho asked after consulting with the translation guide.

"Yes," replied Hermione, "I may even bring back some of my friends who are in need of a safe place. _Sanctuary_," she said, locating the word for them in their book.

Bokamoso stared at the word and then flipped through the book before he asked, "Home war. Uagadou sanctuary?"

"Yes."

She could not be sure of the current state of the Order, but assumed it was bad if no one had tried to rescue Ginny at the Godric's Hollow revel. If there were too few Order members left, assisted by Akiki, she had spoken with the Headmaster about the possibility of making room for them at Uagadou.

"Hermione," said Kalisha slowly, trying her best to pronounce her name correctly. "Uagadou home."

At first, she wasn't sure what Kalisha meant, but soon all three children were repeating the phrase and bobbing their heads repeatedly until she understood they wanted her to make Uagadou her home. She owed these children more than just her life. Their wholehearted acceptance of her, along with their affection had saved her mind from completely surrendering to the madness of the beast within her.

"Hermione, bring baby?" asked Mpho.

It looked like Akiki and Kwame had spared no details in whatever discussion they had with the children. She wasn't too pleased about it

"Babies," she corrected, holding up two fingers. "I have two sons."

Merlin, why did they have to bring up her children? It hurt too much to think of them. She did not know when, if ever, she would see them again. Yet, now that she had mentioned them, she found it hard to stop.

"I have two little boys. One looks like an adorable little piglet and the other an angry demon," she said with misty eyes. "Martin has a cute little dimple on his left cheek while Wilbur's got one on his right cheek. Everyone else thinks those are the only differences between the boys, but I'm sure that Will's face is just a little longer and Marty's is just a little wider."

There was no way the trio could keep up with what she was saying, but she was no longer talking to them.

"They're bald now, but I have no doubt they'll end up having that same ridiculous shade of hair as Draco. I only hope that by the time they're in school they'll show better sense, in not just their hairstyle, than their father did in his school days—By Godric, he was insufferable back then with his, _my father will hear about this_, threat for everything. Even though I know it's unlikely to happen, I still shudder at the thought of the twins ending up like some version of Draco during his Hogwarts days."

Hermione winced in pain. Her fangs had abruptly materialised and cut into her tongue and lips. It was a warning from the she-wolf, who did not appreciate the unmistaken tone of longing in her verbal meanderings.

The trio may have struggled to understand her words but they were quick to sense her emotional distress.

"Hermione go. Hermione come back," said Kalisha wrapping her arms around Hermione.

"Hermione bring baby," said Bokamoso holding up two fingers before he too hugged Hermione.

"Uagadou home," asserted Mpho and joined his friends in the group hug.

* * *

Draco spent most of the previous night and the morning before the full moon talking to different members of his pack sharing his intentions with them. It would be impossible to have a pack meeting until his confrontation with Fenrir so he was forced to meet them in small groups.

"I **will **kill Fenrir. The choice isn't between him and me," he had told the pack. "The choice is between trusting me to be your alpha and following me into the unknown or continuing here with Gunnolf as your alpha."

Most had scoffed at the idea of Gunnolf abandoning Draco to become alpha himself.

"If you join me, you join me in my cause as well. Things won't be as easy as they've been at Bleidd. Where we once fought alongside the Death Eaters, we will be fighting against them. Even though we'll be leaving Britain, we will remain involved in the war."

Draco's attempt to scare them off was met with boisterous laughter. Many in the pack were itching to give the Death Eaters a little payback for all the suffering inflicted on them.

"You should know that I'm prompted to act now by my own selfish desire to save my mate."

He did not share all the horrific details, just enough to let the pack know that Hermione had been taken, and possibly turned, by Fenrir. Even so, everyone Draco spoke with expressed a desire to leave Bleidd and help him rescue his mate. As the witch who had given birth to the pack's miracle, Hermione held a special place in their hearts. They were not only disgusted to hear that as alpha Fenrir would try to steal a pack member's mate, they were angered in particular by the fact that it was Hermione Fenrir had hurt and potentially doomed to the life of an outcast.

Now armed with the knowledge that his pack was behind him despite the risks involved, Draco and the betas spend the day making quiet arrangements for their travel the following day. They consolidated anything of value they possessed, which could be used later to purchase necessities once they left Britain.

Hours before moonrise the realness of the moment finally hit Draco. He was going to challenge his alpha. He was going to kill Fenrir. He was going to leave Britain. These were things he was certain would happen within the next twenty-four hours. As for the rest was anybody's guess.

* * *

"Come on, we've wasted enough time as it is," Gunnolf scolded Theo.

"What's your rush? It's only been a couple of hours since we got here. Is it that time of the month, dear?" asked Theo with a roll of his eyes.

"As a matter of fact it is," replied Gunnolf, misunderstanding Theo's remark. "It's still a few hours to moonrise back home but we're cutting it close here. I don't want to end up spending the full moon alone in a strange place just because we lingered a little too long."

Theo nearly suggested Gunnolf did not have to spend the night alone, but checked himself just in time. He needed to ease up on his consumption of the cheering potion. It was clearly clouding his judgement if he was thinking of propositioning a werewolf during the full moon.

Theo did not know what he expected to find as he roamed the school grounds. He did not possess the ability to track scents or hear the difference in heartbeats, but when he paid attention, Theo always had a good instinct for knowing when he was being lied to. Right now, he just knew the school was hiding something from him.

They had shown up on the pretext of being clueless tourists eager to catch a glimpse of the fantastic beast living at Uagadou all the locals were yapping about. The staff had politely explained that the only fantastic beasts at their school were the animagi in their Transfiguration class before asking them to leave. At first, Theo chalked it up to good luck that they weren't escorted off the premises. On further thought, he realised Uagadou probably did not need to worry too much about security because, unlike Hogwarts, they did not face the constant threat of attack from one deranged wizard or the other. Still, it felt like there may be something else going on.

Taking advantage of what he had initially assumed to be oversight on the school's part, Theo and Gunnolf discretely explored the school for any signs of Hermione, or whatever beast they were definitely hiding.

"I haven't picked up anything in the area we've covered so far," said Gunnolf. "And I didn't pick up any of the usual signs shown by people when they lie."

Theo could not shake off the feeling of being watched, and the more easily they were able to access different areas of the school, the more it confirmed the feeling that they were deliberately being misled.

"I'm sorry, but I'm leaving now." Gunnolf pointed to the sky. "We may have less than thirty minutes before moonrise."

Theo looked around and just knew they would come to regret leaving without solving this mystery, but he would have greater cause for regret if he did not find shelter before Gunnolf transformed into a beast.


	34. Chapter 34

"Fuck, fuck, fuck!" exclaimed Theo with dread as Gunnolf transformed right before his eyes.

The werewolf had clearly miscalculated the hour of moonrise. Barely past the gates of the school and the anti-apparition barrier, the clouds cleared and they found themselves struck by moonlight.

Theo, who wasn't a skilled or experienced duellist, lacked the battle-hardened nerves to react appropriately when staring danger in the face. Transfixed by the sight of Gunnolf's hunky form transforming into that of a killer beast, Theo stood rooted to the spot, muttering expletives, for longer than he should have before finally remembering to use his wand.

Gunnolf finished transforming and turned his gaze on the cowering form of the human before him. He rushed towards the wizard, jaws snapping, but only got a mouthful of dirt as Theo had apparated away.

* * *

Back cracking and spine rippling from the change taking over her, Hermione grunted in pain and fell to her knees. Her head stayed bowed while she caught her breath. The change was quicker this time, quicker and far less painful than expected; though she was still caught off-guard by the rage, the hunger and the urge to mate, she was overcome with all at once.

Hermione flexed her muscles and ground her canines before letting loose a long and triumphant howl. Even though she had changed form, she was still in control. For whatever reason the she-wolf was content with letting her human self take charge, only urging her to act on her desires.

_Hunt, kill, eat, fuck. Hunt, kill, eat, fuck. Hunt, kill, eat-_

Hermione did not agree with the fucking part, but, ravenous as she was, she could not fault the first three. Forgetting all about her resolve to isolate herself, she left the cave and rushed out into the forest.

* * *

With moonrise only a couple of hours away, Draco finished with his most important task for the night, securing the safety of his pups. Without any other non-werewolves he could discretely entrust with the care of his sons during the full moon, Draco was forced to call upon his elf. While he could not absolve Mipsy for his role in Hermione's suffering, the rational part of Draco's mind recognised that the creature could not be faulted for its actions as he had only been following orders. Unlike the Death Eaters, who made a moral choice to execute their master's evil commands, as a house elf it was Mipsy's nature to do as instructed. For the first time ever Draco looked past their usefulness and pondered the responsibility that came with owning house elves.

Having already tasked Mipsy with dispatching the contraceptive potion to Pansy earlier in the day, Draco had summoned his elf for one more task.

_"Make sure you keep them safe and well hidden till the time I summon you again. Do not let anyone—werewolf or Death Eater—get their hands on my sons. Protect them at all costs, Mipsy."_

He had informed Mipsy of his plans to travel to Uganda and handed him the bassinet with his sons, ordering the elf to ignore any command that subverted his instructions in any way.

The elf had gushed at Draco's feet, bawling in gratitude for being trusted with such an important task. Draco felt a twinge of guilt knowing he had basically ordered Mipsy to die, if needed, to protect his sons. It was selfish on his part to demand such a sacrifice, but Draco had not spared it another thought as he sent his sons off with a kiss to each of their foreheads.

Shortly after parting with his sons, Draco received word that Theo was waiting for him at the portkey point.

"Where's Gunnolf?" he asked, seeing Theo by himself.

"Why, hello to you too," replied Theo, earning himself a glare from Draco.

Theo rolled his eyes at Draco. "He's back in Uganda. We messed up with the time and he ended up transforming."

"So you just left him behind?"

Theo made an unintelligible sound of protest before providing an explanation.

"He nearly bit my arm off! I fuckin' got away just in time. By Salazaar, I'm never going to be able to think about his mouth without picturing those deadly teeth ever again." The last part he muttered to himself with a shudder.

Draco, on a tight schedule, had no patience for Theo's antics. He scowled at his friend; Theo had clearly indulged in a generous helping of the cheering potion.

"Don't give me that look. Mr Beefcake just pounced on me in a way I never imagined," Theo cried out. "My nerves are fuckin' shattered."

"So you just left him behind?" asked Draco, repeating his accusation, in a more menacing tone this time. "How in Hades do you expect him to return to Britain without an international portkey?"

Theo looked around sheepishly, like it wasn't something he had considered till now.

"Did you miss the part about how I was nearly killed by a werewolf?"

It was rather telling of Theo's battle experience that even after years of being a Death Eater it had taken so little to unnerve him to such an extent.

"I suppose it may be a good thing after all," said Draco, looking away and letting out an angry breath. I'll just meet with Gunnolf in Uganda."

...

"Fuck! It confirms what we suspected," said Theo. Draco had just finished telling him about his plans to leave Britain and his reasons for doing so.

Theo handed Hermione's wand to Draco and gave him an overview of their unproductive trip, leaving out any mention of the bloody field they had found. Draco's plate looked full enough and he stood a better chance of winning against Fenrir if he was hopeful about finding Hermione alive.

Of course, he now had to worry about how to proceed with their plans once Draco and the werewolves were gone.

"This changes things," he said, flashing a smile that contradicted the depth of his concerns.

"Not by much," reassured Draco. "We heard from Potter."

"Oh? Okay ... I suppose it's all up to me now, eh?"

His flippant tone hid his panic well. Draco's leaving would not, in and of itself, have a negative impact on their plans, but it definitely made him feel even more stressed out to know Draco would be temporarily out of the picture.

"No pressure," rejoined Draco with a smirk.

Summoning parchment and quill, Theo wrote down the location of the Death Eater base in Uganda.

"When you get to Uganda, give that place a try. Mr. Beefcake will most likely expect to find me waiting there for him."

Draco nodded and took the parchment from Theo.

"Apologise for me, will you? He scared me, that's all. It's one thing to know someone's a werewolf, quite another to see firsthand what that actually means..." said Theo, referring to Gunnolf. "Of course, given the opportunity I'd still shag him, just not during the full moon," he said with a chuckle.

* * *

The predators she had scared off weeks ago remained gone, leaving Hermione alone to hunt. _This is boring_. She spat out the decapitated head of yet another rabbit.

Despite being hungry, she did not care for the taste of the rabbits, warthogs and antelopes she had slaughtered in the last few hours. At least when it came to the hyena she had some fun separating it from its pack before she killed it just as easily as she had the other game available in the forest.

Hermione's wolf wished to return to Uagadou where she would find prey to satisfy her tastes. While the little creatures in the forest made for decent appetisers, she needed bigger game to satiate her hunger. She did not need to kill the Ebony Trio, the she-wolf argued, there was a smorgasbord of people at the school to choose from whether she wanted to eat or just bite and turn them. After all, if they wanted her to make Uagadou her home, what better way than making them pack in the truest sense?

Hermione gripped the tree trunk, claws digging in, and slammed her forehead against the tree in her struggle to resist the urgings of her beast. She moaned and slid to the ground, tearing out chunks of bark free in the process, as she tried to remind herself that she was more than just her beast. The she-wolf tried to cajole her human half to forget why she needed to stay away but made no attempt to wrestle away control. Having her two halves so opposed on this subject battered away at the sliver of sanity she had regained over the past couple of days, it was only a matter of time before her humanity would succumb.

In an attempt to get as far away from the school as possible Hermione ran further down the mountain, letting out a howl of frustration. An unexpected sound made her stop dead in her tracks, her ears perked up. For the first time ever Hermione heard her howl answered by another.

* * *

Moonrise nearly upon them, the pack gathered in the designated spot on the castle grounds to welcome the new moon. As the pack waited to undergo the painful, and for some lengthy, process of transforming into their wolves Draco took in his surroundings: the lush green grass beneath them, the dark silhouette of the castle towering behind him, the vibrant forest just beyond and the silvery light of the moon that slowly washed over them all. He took a moment to soak in how beautiful it all appeared. This would most likely be the last time he would ever stand on this piece of land he had called home for the last three years of his life. Bleidd had seen him transform from a cowardly Pureblood snob to a warrior, a father, and tonight, the alpha of his pack.

The battle lines were drawn without a word being exchanged between the groups. A large grey wolf with a scar across his face stood at the head of a small group on one side. Ears flat against his skull, tail twitching agitatedly, he looked ready to strike. On the other side, a large white wolf stood shoulder to shoulder with the bulk of the pack, his posture relaxed but alert.

The white wolf cleared himself of all thoughts that had brought him to this point. He was strong enough to defeat the alpha; to emerge victorious tonight he only needed to ensure his human half did not try to take over in a fit of rage. He stepped forward into the clearing, bared his teeth to the grey wolf and threw his head back to let out a howl that rang clear in the crisp night air. He had issued his challenge to the alpha.

The large grey wolf, who till now had looked eager to fight, unexpectedly stepped back and transformed into his human form to the shock of those gathered.

"You reckoned you'd actually pull this off, did you? Foolish, pup," said Fenrir with a shake of his head, "all you went and did was make sure every one of them"—he pointed to the wolves standing behind the white wolf—"dies with you tonight."

Fenrir looked around the field before he barked out one of his most destructive commands, "Kill every werewolf disloyal to me tonight."

They did not want to arouse Fenrir's suspicions by too many pack members abandoning his alpha bond all at once. They had thought it would be better for the majority of them to remain bonded with Fenrir until Draco defeated him and replaced him as alpha. No one had anticipated a scenario where Fenrir would ask the pack to turn on itself. Draco could only watch in horror as the pack aggressively attacked each other.

* * *

The she-wolf snapped at the air with deadly fangs and then cocked her head, listening. There was someone else in the forest, another wolf, a male.

Was it her sire? Had he finally returned for her? The she-wolf darted off, leaping over bushes in places and tearing through them in others, in her rush to discover the source of the howl. She felt a thrill like no other at the prospect of finding another creature like her, so she was terribly disappointed when she did eventually catch sight of the wolf.

Even from a distance, she could tell from his scent that he wasn't her sire and neither his scent nor his inferior form could tempt her into considering him as a potential mate ... But he could make for excellent prey.

She recalled biting her sire, his life force had tasted so good. Would this wolf taste as good?

_Only one way to find out. _

The she-wolf began to stalk the unknown wolf. She let out a growl to herald her presence. Her size and strength already gave her too much of an advantage over the grey wolf, she would need him to be on his guard and ready for her attack if there was to be any sport for her in this fight.

Once certain she had the grey wolf's undivided attention she charged silently, loping on all fours until she forcefully collided into him and knocked him to the ground. The unknown grey wolf did all he could to get out from under her, wheezing as he struggled to catch his breath. The she-wolf eased away from him, careful not to nick him with her claws. It would not do to prematurely end their fun by accidentally slicing something vital.

So confident was the she-wolf of her own superiority to the grey wolf she carelessly turned her back to him and walked a few paces away, ensuring she gave him sufficient time to recover. When she faced him again she expected to find him looking a little winded, not staring at her in wide-eyed bewilderment. The expression on his face as he got to his feet was one of recognition.

Did he know her? Was this Draco?

_No. _

No, Draco was a white wolf. She corrected herself, recalling some of her human's memories.

It did not matter to the she-wolf who he was and if he knew her. This grey wolf was her prey tonight and the only one likely to satisfy her urges without upsetting her human ... not too much anyway.

The she-wolf gave her opponent a few more minutes to prepare himself before tackling him to the ground. _This is fun_, she thought as she alternated between using her muzzle and forehead to repeatedly pound into his flank. His feeble attempts to fight her off only added to her amusement.

The male wolf whined and hissed pathetically before yielding to her by resting his head and shoulders flat against the ground. Instinctively, Hermione recognised the sign of his submission even though the she-wolf pretended otherwise. The she-wolf snarled and motioned for him to get up and resume the fight, but the infuriating wolf refused to even look at her let alone hit back. She tried to force him to his feet by biting into his scruff, which only made him whine louder.

_Pathetic._

The she-wolf rapidly lost interest in fighting the snivelling creature at her feet; she was done playing with her food.

* * *

The battle turned out to be like nothing Draco had imagined. He had expected it to be a fight between Fenrir and him, with perhaps a couple of wolves, loyal to Fenrir, foolishly choosing to challenge him in the heat of the moment after the death of their alpha. Instead, the sadistic alpha had introduced the pack to a new kind of hell by compelling those bonded with him to kill one another.

A few betas tried to resist their alpha's command; they were viciously beaten by the omegas who were helpless to do anything but carry out the order. The small group of wolves who had bonded with Draco sustained severe injuries within the first few minutes.

Killing Fenrir was the only way to end this madness. The white wolf fought off the horde of charging _weres_ in his attempt to reach the cruel alpha. Draco took great care not to seriously hurt any of the attacking wolves, but, caught in the heat of battle, he ended up maiming a good number of those who had stood in solidarity with him earlier that night.

Over the noise of gnashing teeth, clashing limbs, whimpers of pain and cries of terror, the white wolf could discern the sound of Fenrir's laughter. He glared daggers at him when they made eye contact, leaping over the wolf in his path to get at Fenrir. His progress was halted by three others that tackled him all at once.

"Are you so eager to die that you'd fight me, pup?" asked Fenrir.

The white wolf snarled at Fenrir, attempting to shake off his assailants. He willed his face to morph into his human form.

"Fight me, Fenrir! Defend your position as alpha with honour. I challenge you to fight me," Draco roared before returning to his wolf form.

"I'll deal with him," Fenrir told the wolves blocking Draco.

"So eager for a piece of me ... just like your bitch, aren't you?" Fenrir sneered when the white wolf finally reached him. "Ah, but you don't know 'bout that, do you, pup? All that time you were here pretending like you didn't help her escape I had your little Mudblood with her knees behind her ears begging for my seed."

Draco did not immediately notice that while flinging jibes at him, Fenrir was slowly circling him to assess his weak spots.

"I bit that bitch and turned her, you know, she'll always have that bond with me now—"

Draco's hackles rose.

"—probably knocked her up too, with the amount of cum I dumped into her stinky Mudblood gash."

Draco attacked blindly and Fenrir chuckled each time he failed to get a hold of Fenrir. The older alpha wasn't particularly quick on his feet, but Draco had started to feel the brunt of the injuries he had sustained in the battle so far and he was far too enraged to correctly anticipate Fenrir's movements.

The white wolf tried to compose himself. It would not help to dwell right now on the possibility of his mate carrying another wolf's pups. He reminded himself that his mate possessed a spirit far too strong to be broken by the likes of Fenrir. All that mattered was that she was still alive and the sooner he killed Fenrir, the sooner he could go find her.

Draco focused on the sway and motion of Fenrir's body instead of the taunting words meant to goad him into acting brashly. He timed his assault perfectly and tackled Fenrir from behind, causing him to yelp in surprise when he lost his balance and fell down.

While they wrestled on the ground, Fenrir grabbed at the white wolf's neck and began to choke him. Draco fought him off by swiping at Fenrir's face. Fenrir's head recoiled in time to avoid being shredded by Draco's sharp claws, but Draco still knocked the wind out of him by slamming his paw into Fenrir's chest.

Fenrir grabbed the white wolf by his tail and flung him off himself. Quickly stumbling to his feet, he jumped back, shifting forms mid-jump. The grey wolf feinted to his left before he spun around and charged at the exposed left flank of the white wolf, but instead of cutting him, the grey wolf only managed to graze the white wolf with one of his claws.

Dipping into his reserves, the white wolf relentlessly delivered a series of blows that laid the grey wolf flat on his stomach. He picked up Fenrir by the scruff of his neck, gave him a good shake and slammed him down again. He stepped on the grey wolf's tail, pinning him in place, before he proceeded to bite and spit out chunks of his adversary's flesh.

The grey wolf roared in pain and thrashed about wildly, trying to kick back at the white wolf. Just as it became apparent he was going to meet his demise, he made a poorly timed attempt to shift back into his human form, which forced his body to contort in an unnatural manner. Fenrir was still able to blast the white wolf with a Stupefy. It wasn't strong enough to knock him out completely but was just enough to free the white wolf's hold on him.

Getting back up, Draco chanced a quick glance around him to see how the battle was progressing.

Motionless bodies of pack members, he hoped were only unconscious, surrounded him. Many of those still engaged in battle had a crazed look to them; he suspected they had broken their bond with Fenrir in a valiant attempt to ignore the alpha's commands.

Fenrir had transformed into his human form, but parts of his chest, stomach and hip were mangled bits of fur, flesh and bone; his head, torso and hips stood at odd angles to each other. Overall, Fenrir's injuries resembled the fatal variety of splinching accidents. He did not look like he was in any state to move and any spells cast from his current position could easily be averted. He was done.

Then Fenrir called out, "Shield me," and around two dozen wolves rushed to provide him cover.

_Can't kill Fenrir tonight. _

During his time with the pack, Draco had heard varying accounts of the Pack Wars, but one point remained consistent in every telling—Fenrir Greyback was a ruthless alpha willing to commit any atrocity to win his challenges. Having already seen an example of Fenrir's ruthlessness tonight, there was no doubt Fenrir would use the pack as pawns to beat him. Before he could kill Fenrir, he would have to kill everyone still bonded with Fenrir.

So where did that leave them?

Most of the pack was in need of immediate medical attention. The ones that did not were either exhausted from the fighting or feral from going rogue. Draco was himself not unscathed that night. Though he projected strength and vitality, in his current state even an omega could knock him down if they resumed fighting. With him out of the picture, Fenrir would finish the task of killing everyone who had supported him in this fight.

There wasn't much of a choice here. Killing Fenrir was secondary to the survival of the pack so Draco decided to negotiate with Fenrir.

He changed into his human form and put forth his proposal in the simplest of terms. "Call off the attack and let me leave here tonight with whoever wishes to join me."

There was an odd noise, which could have been Fenrir snickering or just wincing in pain for all one could tell from the expression on his face.

"And why would I ever do such a thing?"

"Because I suspect you'll die if you wait till morning to get that fixed"—Draco pointed to the oozing hole in Fenrir's stomach—"The longer this fight goes on, the greater the likelihood of you croaking before you get appropriate help."

"I could just kill you and finish it right now."

"You could try," said Draco in a matter of fact tone, "but there's no guarantee you'll do any better now than you have the past hour _and_ it would cost you precious time. Do you really want to gamble with your life?" he asked, knowing Fenrir would always put himself first. "Let us go and I'll pour the dittany on your wounds myself before we leave."

Fenrir was silent. He was either considering Draco's offer or in too much pain to talk.

"I can't let you take the pack and leave... I need them," he admitted after some hesitation before quickly adding, "I'd rather see them dead than leave."

_And that is exactly why the pack would rather have anyone else as their alpha_.

"Face it Fenrir, you lost here tonight. Be happy you get to walk away alive."

"I want to keep the ones I sired," insisted Fenrir.

"It's got to be their choice. That part is non-negotiable."

Fenrir reluctantly agreed and called off the attack on the condition that Draco would attend to his wounds before anyone else's. In exchange, Draco made Fenrir swear on his magic that he would not call for another attack or abuse his alpha powers again for the next twenty-four hours.

Not wanting to risk the lives of anyone in the pack by waiting until morning for Cora's assistance, despite being dead on his feet, Draco spent the rest of the night dispensing their limited reserves of dittany to whoever needed it the most and forming pack bonds with those willing to follow him. The rogue wolves were proving to be particularly difficult to manage in his exhausted state. He used a sleeping charm on them to ensure they did not do anything to endanger themselves or the pack for the rest of the night.

Fenrir was taken to one side after being treated. It would have been so easy to kill him in his vulnerable state but both alphas had sworn not to make any attempts on the other's lives during their twenty-four hour period of truce. If not for needing to care for his pack, he could have probably figured out a way to circumvent that oath and put an end to Fenrir but he was just barely able to put one foot in front of the other attending to his injured pack.

When morning finally came, Draco needed to be levitated, along with the sleeping feral werewolves, to the portkey point outside the wards of Bleidd to follow their plan of escape. Even though Draco lay bruised, bloodied and too weak to hold up his own head, his pack was proud to call him their alpha as they set out to make a new life for themselves.

* * *

AN: A helpful excerpt from Ch 8.

[Obeying the alpha's command gave one a general sense of calm and wellbeing not all that different from executing an order while imperiused. Ignoring an alpha's order caused constant unease and unrest in the werewolf followed by intense pain. While it was possible for someone other than the caster to end the imperius curse, the only way to throw off an alpha's command was to break the bond with the alpha, which in turn would result in a loss of the pack bonds as well. At that stage, you may as well be a rogue, an outcast.]


	35. Chapter 35

_He submitted_, pointed out her human.

_I don't care, I'm hungry and he smells good_, countered the she-wolf.

_He smells familiar_. Although she could not be certain, her wolf only recognised the scents she had encountered since she was turned.

The she-wolf was about ready to take a bite out of the grey wolf when a shift in the wind brought a strange new scent that gave her pause. Something wasn't quite right. Her eyes scanned her surroundings but the forest was denser here and she could not see too far in any direction.

The grey wolf took advantage of her distracted state and made a dash for it. He did not get too far as he unfortunately ran straight into something and ended on his butt on the ground. The grey wolf was quick to get back on his feet but stopped dead in his tracks when he took in the beast scowling at him.

The name of the strange rhinoceros-like creature eluded her, but Hermione recognised it from one of Luna Lovegood's magizoology books as an extremely dangerous beast. Although it stood over a foot taller than her and had more than five times her bulk, she could tell from the underdeveloped horn sitting rather prominently above its nose that this one wasn't an adult. Instinctively, she knew to keep away from the horn that had begun to glow eerily ever since the creature locked eyes with the grey wolf.

Alas, the she-wolf did not share her human's concerns. Excited by the prospect of a worthy opponent, she raised her tail, stood as tall as she could and bared her fangs before letting out a challenging roar. The grey wolf was her prey and she wasn't going to let an oversized hog steal it from her!

Focused solely on the grey wolf that had dared to attack it, the creature paid no mind to the larger black wolf growling in the background. Head lowered, horn aimed at the offending wolf, the creature prepared to charge.

But, the she-wolf wasn't to be slighted in this manner and she wasn't going to let someone else kill her prey. She ran at the horned beast, making a flying leap over the grey wolf to hit her target squarely in the chest with enough force to shove the hefty creature back a few steps. She landed on her feet between the two creatures, to protect the grey wolf from the unknown beast.

_Mine! _

Her claim, though voiced as a growl, was clearly understood by the strange creature. It responded with a wide swinging motion of its bulky head, easily knocking her out of the way. Seeing the creature's attention was now centred on her, the grey wolf scrambled backwards in an attempt to get away. He was sent sprawling on his arse with a gentle nudge from the creature, who glared at him in a manner meant to pin him in place. The grey wolf had inadvertently become a prize, to be claimed by one of the two ferocious beasts at the end of their deadly match.

Despite having the wind knocked out of her, the she-wolf quickly recovered. Using her powerful legs to get on her feet and jump back into the fray, she easily cleared the gap between her and her most recent opponent in a single leap to resume her attack. Swiping downward, the she-wolf attempted to carve into the creature but her razor-sharp claws barely scratched the surface of its thick hide.

Thinking a different approach was in order she rolled to a safe distance and shifted into her human form. Still in control, the she-wolf assaulted the beast barrelling towards her with a succession of spells: _Stupefy_, _Diffindo_, _Confringo_, and out of utter frustration even a _Rictusempra_, all to no avail. The creature's hide appeared to be invulnerable to her spells as well. It must have stung though, as the beast looked beyond enraged when it butted into her midsection.

Hermione narrowly missed being grazed by the deadly horn, but she crumpled to the ground and doubled over in pain. The creature raised one of its massive hooves, poised to stomp on her prone form, when for no apparent reason the creature bellowed and tottered to the side just as Hermione rolled away from under its body. She could not understand what was going on until she saw the grey wolf swinging from the creature's tail. The grey wolf's fangs were lodged so deep into the creature's tail, that however hard it tried it was unable to shake him off.

Recognising the futility in attacking the creature's hide, the she-wolf took her cue from the grey wolf and sought out other parts that could be vulnerable to an attack. She immediately looked at the glowing horn that beckoned to her like a beacon in the dark. In the midst of the creature thrashing about, Hermione cast a perfectly aimed Diffindo at its horn. Fluid erupted from the wound and burned its way down the creature's face, making it howl in pain.

By now, the grey wolf had disentangled himself from the beast and lay on the ground, catching his breath while the beast floundered about blindly. Eager as the she-wolf had been to fight the mammoth creature a few minutes ago, she lost all interest in it once she was able to best it. That the grey wolf had contributed to that feat irked her as it meant her human would never let her kill him now.

Still hungry and not allowed to feast on her prize, the she-wolf left to resume her hunt. But first, she returned to her true form and dragged the grey wolf by the scruff of his neck to her cave where he was bound and left to be dealt with after sunrise.

* * *

The actual task of leaving Britain turned out easier than imagined given the current travel restrictions. As planned, the pack split up into smaller groups and scattered to different parts of the country. They portkeyed to multiple locations on the continent before finally travelling to Uganda. Several different departments in the Ministry were likely alerted when the pack put to use Draco's stash of stolen portkeys accumulated over the years, but they were counting on the Death Eaters considering the newly formed pack not worth the amount of trouble it would take to hunt them down.

All the groups had arrived, seemingly without incident, by late afternoon at the foothills of the Mountains of the Moon, but the pack was suffering. Transformations were taxing enough for any werewolf, but the life-and-death battle coupled with the debilitating nausea from travelling via portkey multiple times and over long distances meant not one of them was capable of doing anything more than groan in pain for the first couple of hours after their arrival.

Draco was among the first to move. He went around with his betas as they did a head count, saw to their injured and checked on their supplies. It was only then he discovered that Cora and Oskar were missing and no one recalled seeing either one of them since they left Bleidd.

It did not make sense for either Oskar or Cora to have stayed behind as they had bonded with him long before the events of the previous night. Although a few pack members had unwittingly switched allegiance even earlier, Oskar and Cora, along with Gunnolf, were among the first to consciously choose him as their alpha. Their absence was disconcerting. There was still so much he did not know about being an alpha, or even a werewolf, he doubted he could successfully lead the pack without Oskar's counsel to rely upon. Cora was equally indispensible in her role as the pack's mediwitch. With their aggressive natures, werewolves tended to attract trouble anyway and there was no knowing what kind of dangerous creatures or unfriendly humans they would have to fight during the course of settling into this foreign land.

Lacking the means to travel back to Britain, even if it were safe to do so, all he could was hope Oskar and Cora were part of a group of stragglers, despite knowing there was little chance of that being the case. Every one of the werewolves Draco had spoken with the previous day had joined in the exodus this morning. Even a few who had no idea of his plans, ones Oskar had claimed would only accept a new alpha once Fenrir fell, had preferred to follow Draco when offered the choice. Werewolves respected strength above all and it was what they sought in their alpha, the ability to protect the pack. Draco had failed the pack members who had stayed with Fenrir when he failed to kill their cruel alpha. His only consolation was that he had done his part to ensure no lives were lost the previous night.

He could not do anything about two of the three pillars of his pack, but he could do something about the third. Draco recalled Theo's tip for where he might find Gunnolf.

He hesitated to visit the location of his mate's captivity and suffering till he realised he was being a hypocrite, after all Bleidd had also been a prison for Hermione. Draco had mixed feelings about the times he had forced his desires on his mate. His wolf was unapologetic about claiming his mate but it would have eased his conscience if Hermione had willingly participated in the act because he had won her affections, not because a potion had made it so.

There was no changing the past and, as far as he knew, Hermione did not hold their first coupling against him. Still, would she have chosen the Order as easily over him and their sons if not for such an ugly start to their relationship?

* * *

"Oh Merlin! Gunnolf?" Hermione stared in disbelief at the human form of the grey wolf. "What are you doing here?" she demanded, disregarding their naked state.

"Me? What in Hades are you doing, Hermione? You tried to _eat me_ last night," Gunnolf rebuked. He had been terrified of her last night but was more confident now that he stood, towering over her familiar human form. In the moment that followed, she knocked his confidence right out.

Eyes flashed yellow and claws emerged. "Watch your tone, wolf," she warned in a tone that made him instantly hang his head and lower his gaze. She may have resembled the frail-looking witch he knew from Bleidd, but the Hermione before him was a dangerous beast.

She closed in on him, invading his personal space while she appraised him. He was more impressive in this form, she noted, using a single claw to lightly run across his pectoral muscles and then down his abdominals to stop just short of his manhood. She watched his proud member shrink in fear and let out a peal of laughter. She was right about him last night; this specimen was only good as prey.

_Pack_, her human insisted. He was a werewolf, he had submitted to her last night and helped her defeat the strange beast, maybe even saved her life in the process.

"I believe I asked you a question, wolf. What are you doing here?"

"Incredibly, I was here yesterday, looking for you."

Eyes kept lowered, Gunnolf proceeded to inform her about his reasons for arriving in Uganda and everything that had happened since.

"Will and Marty are with Draco and the pack?" asked an anxious Hermione, wrestling away control from the she-wolf.

"Yes."

"And they're okay, they're safe?"

"Yes, absolutely. The pack's been ordered, Fenrir is to never again be left alone with the twins."

She stepped away, reflecting on what she had just learnt.

"... you never realised something had happened to me until you arrived here? ... Draco doesn't know I'm missing?"

"No," he said, daring to finally look up. His shoulders sagged in relief when he saw her eyes were their normal shade of brown. "As far as we knew, you had escaped. Still, Draco grew concerned when you didn't contact him like you were supposed to and wanted confirmation you were okay. He planned to return Ginny Weasley to the Order to confirm your whereabouts."

"Ginny—" Her voice cracked. Once again, she had forgotten about her friend. "She's okay, then?"

It took Gunnolf a moment to understand the nature of her concern.

"Oh, yes. She's alright," he assured with a nod. "It was a close call, but thanks to Cora and Draco's efforts, she survived. Though the baby couldn't be saved..."

Hermione felt no guilt knowing she had caused the death of an innocent. For Ginny's sake, she was glad the baby that was a continued source of her friend's nightmares and anxieties, had not survived.

"Does that mean she's been sent back to the Death Eaters?" She was worried Ginny was returned to her rapists to be impregnated once more.

Gunnolf shook his head.

"Lucius Malfoy himself arrived to check on his heir after he received word that Ginny was too weak to travel for the revel held during the previous full moon. Cora fooled him same as the rest."

He told her about Cora's inspired ploy to fool everyone into thinking Ginny was still pregnant and of Ginny's recovery in the aftermath.

"So she's back to being herself?" asked Hermione, beginning to feel hopeful.

"I can't say, I didn't know the witch before she was brought to Bleidd," he said with a light shrug of his shoulders. "She sounds far more reasonable when you talk to her now—most noticeable is the absence of vitriol when someone mentions Draco. Considering she's still a prisoner, Cora thinks she's shown remarkable improvement in her mental health since her miscarriage. "

"And Draco's going to help Ginny escape only to get news about me?"

"Unless something's happened since I left, the witch is most likely back with her family by now."

Hermione looked visibly shocked that Draco would take such risks just to confirm she was okay.

"We needed to talk to the Order anyway," Gunnolf explained. "Draco thinks the Order would naturally be our ally if we are to go against the Dark Lord."

"Draco wants to fight the Dark Lord?"

They had discussed it before she left, but Hermione was still surprised to hear Draco wished to take on a more active role in the fight against Voldemort.

"He says he wants a world where he can raise his family without worrying about people trying to kill his sons, his mate, his pack or himself."

Hermione leaned against the cave's wall for support. Her vision blurred by the tears flowing freely from her eyes.

"Why didn't he come for me? Why didn't he sense my distress?" she whispered under her breath.

"Why didn't you return, Hermione? Clearly, you aren't being held a prisoner, probably haven't been since you were turned. Why didn't you return?" he demanded.

Gunnolf flinched as Hermione's teeth elongated and her eyes rapidly changed from brown to yellow, then back to brown again.

"It's complicated," she replied dismissively, "I haven't quite been myself."

"Have you been alone all this time?" he asked, curious about how she had survived as a lone wolf. "I'd say you're doing pretty well, all things considered."

Hermione shrugged.

"Looks like Oskar was right about you."

She gave him a questioning glance.

"You must be the Promised One. I mean, you're a dire wolf, Hermione! And you managed to defeat that erumpent last night."

"Is that what that creature was, an erum-?"

"An erumpent, yes. Thanks to a terrible translator, we ended up learning about quite a few African beasts while looking for you. When we heard about a dire wolf sighting in the Mountains of the Moon we weren't really expecting to find anything even though we did go up to Uagadou to check."

"While you've been running around looking for me, where's this so-called mate of mine? If we have a bond why didn't he stop Fenrir from violating me?"

Hermione and her wolf were of one mind in that moment. She hated having to even mention the degradation she had suffered at Fenrir's hands, but she needed to know why Draco had failed her.

"The Dark Lord punished Draco for your escape. I'll spare you the gruesome details, but he was tortured and left for dead. He's alive, thanks only to the timely actions of a few childhood friends... Hermione, I don't know how you've remained sane all this time all by yourself, but we aren't meant to be on our own. Unless you want to go on a murderous rampage like Fenrir did, you should return to Bleidd with me and be part of the pack."

"Isn't that where Fenrir is as well?"

Gunnolf nodded.

"I don't trust myself around him. I'm not sure I'll be able to remain sane when I see him."

"Then we'll get rid of Fenrir. Your place is with Draco, your pups and the pack, Hermione. We're social creatures, we can't handle being on our own. We think and act irrationally, becoming more and more of a threat to those around us, as well as ourselves, the longer we remain without bonds. Come back to Bleidd, you don't have to physically be with the Order to work with them."

There was truth to what he said. Hermione herself had grown concerned over her erratic and irrational thoughts.

"You need a pack, Hermione. I can see you have a powerful beast, but you have little control over it. You need bonds to banish the chaos in your mind before you can successfully master your wolf... And, your sons need you. Have you any idea how rare it is for our kind to meet our true mates and to have children with them?" asked Gunnolf, sounding both angry and resentful. "You already spat in the face of this incredible gift from the fates when you abandoned your children and mate. Do **not** repeat the same mistake twice."

Hermione was exhausted. She still wanted to keep away from Bleidd for the safety of her children. She was still angry with Draco despite the explanations. She wanted to see her sons again, she wanted to be held by Draco again, and a part of her still wanted to kill Fenrir, along with every Death Eater and salt their lands after she had burnt everything they owned to the ground. She was unable to distinguish the irrational from the rational thoughts. The she-wolf was surprisingly quiet.

"Let's go back to the Death Eater base. Theo's most probably waiting there for me. We can portkey back to Bleidd together."

"There's no need for that." There was no way she was returning to that place, unless it was to torch it down. She summoned her own portkey. "This one can take us to Britain."

"I suppose that is safer than having you just show up at Bleidd."

Gunnolf wasn't looking at her so he missed the predatory look in her eyes.

"Sure, but before we go, wolf, I think it's time for you to pick an alpha."

* * *

Draco arrived at the co-ordinates given to him by Theo and the first thing his keen werewolf senses noticed was the unusual colour of the soil in the adjacent field. A closer inspection nearly drove him mad with grief and rage as he realised it was Hermione's blood staining the ground.

_She attacked the werewolf and escaped. _He reminded himself.

By Mipsy's account, Hermione had not only escaped but also done some damage first. From the copious amount of blood residue—belonging to both Fenrir and Hermione—still present a month later, the two must have engaged in an epic fight. His wolf was proud to have a mate powerful enough to leave that ugly scar on his former alpha's face, but the wizard worried about how much his witch would have suffered trying to cope with such injuries all on her own.

Draco forced himself to go inside the base to look for signs of Gunnolf. Once he could finally see the place, its current state surprised him. An entire quadrant of the structure resembled a war zone with the walls showing signs of being struck by several confringos.

He searched for Gunnolf as well as the cellar, where his mate had been held captive and abused. He wasn't powerful enough to demolish the entire place by himself, but he was capable of wrecking one room. However, someone else had beaten him to it as he found the cellar's roof had caved in so it was no longer accessible.

Something began to flutter in his heart. Who else would have wanted to damage this room, except for Hermione?

The scent of the smouldering remains of the building overwhelmed his senses. The magic employed in its destruction was strong enough to leave a trace of its source even hours later. Hope soared within his heart when he identified the caster as Hermione. She was alive, and well enough to pull off something like this. Awestruck, he took in the scene of destruction around him. His wolf grew restless, far too excited and eager than ever to claim his stunning mate.

There was no sign of Gunnolf. It may have been the smoke still messing with his nose, but Draco failed to pick up his head beta's scent on any of the entry points. However, since Gunnolf did not possess a portkey to return to Britain, like Hermione he too was quite likely still in Uganda.

It wasn't prudent to stick around any longer. There was no telling what wards were triggered when Hermione attacked the place and a group of Death Eaters could be well on their way to investigate. Before leaving, Draco left his scent all over the base—for Gunnolf to find, should he return—but did it in the most disrespectful manner possible to express his contempt for the place.

Draco returned to the site of the pack's makeshift camp on the other side of the Mountains of the Moon. He checked on their injured followed by a meeting with the betas to plan their tasks for the next few days. Past midnight, he finally called it a day. Worn out as they were by the trials of the last twenty-four hours, they would be able to function more effectively after a good night's sleep.

He did not immediately join the others to retire for the night, but went for a walk instead. Despite being the alpha now, he ended up performing a perimeter check. The task had been a part of his routine for so long it would be a while before he outgrew the habit.

During his solitary stroll, he thought about Gunnolf. Had he already gone looking for Theo and encountered Hermione this morning? It may have only been wishful thinking on his part, but with two werewolves missing in the same region around the full moon, there was a chance Gunnolf had already found Hermione. As he lay on the pile of rugs besides members of his pack who were fast asleep, Draco tried to sense Gunnolf through the alpha bond.

_Nothing_.

Either he was doing it wrong or Gunnolf was too far out of range. This was just another thing he would have liked to discuss with Oskar.

Sometime in the early hours of the morning, one of his betas woke Draco and led him away from the tent serving as their sleeping quarters. His mannerism suggested that whatever had led Adrian to disturb his alpha's sleep was important, but nothing to be alarmed over.

It was a relief to see Oskar and Cora sitting beside the campfire, so much, he did not immediately notice Cora's reddened eyes or how frail Oskar appeared.

* * *

AN: Uganda is 3 hrs ahead of the UK.


	36. Chapter 36

"Zoey's missing," said a visibly upset Cora. "No one's seen her since yesterday. When I went around, doing diagnostics and healing all the injured, I asked about her—No one admits to letting her out last night."

During the full moon, they locked Ginny Weasley in her room for the night. It was meant to protect her from any Death Eaters aware of her presence at Bleidd as well as prevent her escape. With Ginny gone, a polyjuiced Zoey was to stay locked in until one of the betas returned to let her out in time for moonrise.

"Wasn't Serafina assigned that task?" asked Oskar.

"Yes, but when I asked her about Zoey last night, she said the wards were down and the room empty when she got there. Serafina was held up by some other duties. She assumed that since she was delayed someone else had let Zoey out. She expected to see her with the pack at moonrise."

"But, Zoey wasn't there last night?"

Cora shook her head.

"Are you sure? It would have been easy to miss her with the way things went down."

"I never told her about Draco's plans, with her nervous disposition she would have given us away. Zoey would have come looking for me same as every full moon. I make sure she doesn't get any unwanted attention from any of the males." At Oskar's look of confusion she added, "You know what it's like once they've had a sip of the Fero. They'll hump everything in sight, consent be damned."

Being as old as he was Oskar kept to himself during the full moon. If he felt energetic enough, he sometimes joined in the pack run. Otherwise, his interactions were limited to watching the brawling matches as it provided an opportunity to observe the strengths and weaknesses of different members of their pack. He never participated in any of the sexual activities all packs engaged in during the full moon. As someone who had lost his mate, he did not see the point. Instead, Oskar spent the night basking in the moonlight, mentally reliving fond memories of his time with his mate. As a result, he never witnessed firsthand most of the deviant behaviour caused by the Fero potion.

Oskar knew the potion made them promiscuous, but was unaware of the extent to which it compromised their instincts. Werewolves could discern if a female was ripe for breeding by her scent alone. Zoey's human form had completed puberty, but their kind would consider her immature until she had a heat cycle. It was hard to imagine how any of the males could even desire, let alone force themselves on an immature female.

"I'm not leaving without her," said Cora, running off towards the castle instead of joining the group of migrating werewolves.

Cora, who always had a soft spot for broken things, had taken Zoey under her wings almost as soon as the teen was turned and brought to the pack by Fenrir. In a short span of time, Zoey became the closest thing Cora ever had to a child. Oskar could understand her unwillingness to leave without Zoey. He waited for Cora, knowing she would not possess a portkey. He did not need to wait too long.

"Couldn't find her anywhere," said an out-of-breath Cora.

"Then we leave without her. It's possible you can't find her because she doesn't wish to be found. Fenrir is her sire after all."

Cora shook her head.

"No, Zoey fears Fenrir but feels no loyalty to him. Something must've happened to her."

"We do not have the time to investigate! I saw the last of the groups leave an hour ago. We are the only ones still here."

While the clock had not run out on the temporary truce, Oskar feared Fenrir would figure a way around his oath just as soon as he was sufficiently recovered to do so. They were courting trouble by lingering on.

"You should leave then," said Cora, starting to walk back to the castle.

Oskar stopped her. "Between the two of us there's only one international portkey to get us out of Britain. We either leave together, or stay."

"Then we either leave with Zoey or you leave without me," Cora insisted.

"By Luna, you are so stubborn sometimes—you must be more mule than wolf," exclaimed Oskar. "Go find your missing omega, you silly child. I shall wait for you beyond the forest."

Cora smiled at Oskar in gratitude, which he immediately waved away.

"Stop grinning at me like a fool and get to it, unless you wish to stay here and become a part of Fenrir's pack again."

Cora gave him another smile before turning away. She had taken only a few steps when Oskar called out to her.

"Keep away from Fenrir. No telling what insane scheme for retribution he's cooked up by now."

Cora did not turn, shouting boastfully, "Fenrir trusts me. Out of everyone, I know best how to manipulate that status-seeking brute."

Oskar watched Cora jog out of sight before he slowly made his way past the castle grounds and through the forest. Not quite as swift in his human form and too old to handle the rigours of transformation outside the full moon, he was more likely to hinder than help Cora in her search for Zoey. He patiently waited for her beyond the anti-apparition wards of the castle, alert for any sign of a threat.

With nothing else to do while he waited, Oskar pondered upon the fight from the previous night. There was no clear winner. Fenrir had undermined his status within the pack by making an uncharacteristic use of the alpha command to fight Draco, a puzzle in itself. Draco was no stronger than the average alpha, and Fenrir had easily killed many fiercer alphas during the Pack Wars. It was utterly senseless of Fenrir to choose to appear weak before his pack by refusing to honour Draco's challenge in the manner he normally would have.

However, Draco had shown his own shortcomings by choosing to negotiate an exit deal, instead of slaying Fenrir. Oskar knew from previous talks with his, now, former pack members that they only stayed with Fenrir because they believed him to be the better choice. Outside the pack, life in Britain was beginning to turn into a living hell for groups targeted by the Dark Lord. Draco did not have favour with the despotic wizard, Fenrir did, which put him in a better position to act as protector of the pack. These _weres_ did not care that Draco's strategy had saved their lives. All they would see was an alpha, too weak to protect his mate or kill Fenrir, even after he confessed to kidnapping, raping and turning his mate.

* * *

It was long past sunset when Cora returned looking distraught.

"Zoey?" he asked.

Cora shook her head and stumbled forward. Luckily, he caught her just in time. Thinking it best to leave first and ask questions later, without warning, he apparated them.

They arrived in a different part of Wales, in a Muggle forest he knew would be abandoned at this hour. He cast the Muffliato taught to them by Draco, in case anyone happened to come within earshot, before he attempted to pry Cora away from him.

"What happened?"

Cora shook her head, refusing to speak and continuing to cling to him.

"What happened, Cora? Tell me," he insisted.

Cora opened her mouth but instead of words, an agonising screech escaped her mouth. She collapsed to the ground despite his hold on her and sobbed, in a manner he had seen her do only once before—after the battle, which resulted in the deaths of their alpha and many others in their old pack, including her mate. Oskar sat down beside her, cradling her against him, until she stopped crying.

"Is she dead?" he asked, assuming the worst from her reaction.

He felt the motion of her bobbing her head against his chest.

"Fenrir." He just knew Greyback would not wait for the twenty-four hours to finish before he acted.

Cora shook her head. "Le-Le-strange," she uttered through sobs.

Oskar looked on confused. The name was unfamiliar to him.

"Death Ea-Eater," she explained.

Fenrir could not have used a Death Eater to kill Zoey without breaking his oath. The Death Eater would have had their own reasons for doing so.

"Why would any Death Eater care about Zoey?"

"Gin-Ginny. They thought—Ginny."

"They killed her thinking she was Ginny?"

Cora shook her head.

"They killed her because they discovered she wasn't Ginny?"

She nodded.

"I searched, and searched for her. She was nowhere. No one had seen her ... Fenrir was livid, furious with Draco, with the pack ... He wanted to punish his pack, for the ones that left. But he can't. Not till the twenty-four hours are up ... In the midst of it all, there was a message. Fenrir was summoned, by the Lestranges ... But he's in a bad state. He's been in a bad state, since his fight, with Hermione—he's just been hiding it from us ... He couldn't go, so they came ... those... those_ monsters_.

"Such a sweet child—" Cora began to tear up again. "The things they did to her... horrible, _terrible_ things, when they thought it was Ginny, a Pureblood, someone they found desirable—when they believed it was a _pregnant_ witch ... They bragged about it, about the terrible things they did, describing their actions as if they had created a masterpiece.

"But then the polyjuice wore off... and they saw _her_... The way they spoke about her. To them, she was ugly, unworthy ... They were angry, and they showed her how much... and the goddess must have forsaken her, for the moon rose, and her broken body transformed, and then the two monsters were _really_ angry. They had been deceived. They had given Fenrir information, and he was supposed to give them Ginny—He waited till the full moon to fulfil his end of the deal knowing the pack would be too busy to notice her absence. They were furious with Fenrir, he had tried to cheat them. Instead of their prize, he gave them an ugly mongrel."

Cora paused to rub her eyes, furiously swiping at the tears.

"Any chance of her survival died the moment they discovered her identity. That poor child—endured so much in her short life, suffered in horrific ways till her very last breath... They came to Bleidd only to toss her butchered remains as a warning to Fenrir—"

Given everything Cora had witnessed in her lifetime, Zoey would have undoubtedly met a barbaric demise to draw such a strong reaction from Cora.

"Who are these people?" she asked, her voice no longer shaky from crying. "How can they treat others in so despicable a manner? What gives them the right to decide whose life has value and whose doesn't?"

Oskar did not need to respond. Like him, Cora was aware that the Death Eaters could and had gotten away with worse crimes in the world they lived in.

"Draco's right. I guess, even Hermione's been right. This _cannot_ continue," she stated with finality.

Due to his closeness to Cora, Oskar deeply experienced her grief. He sat beside her, both of them completely listless, while she silently stared into the darkness before her. Eventually, with some effort, he stood up and then helped Cora to her feet. He activated the portkey to Greece, from where they procured a portkey for Uganda.

They made their way to the Mountains of the Moon in silence. As they neared the pack's campsite, Cora quietly said, "Fenrir plans to blame Draco. He is going to contact Lucius Malfoy and say Draco played a dirty trick on everyone and escaped with half the pack, taking Ginny as a hostage with them. He knows the Death Eaters won't care about Draco or the pack, but they will give a damn if they think he has Ginny."

Oskar nodded and they completed their journey in silence.

A weary Oskar did not say anything that night, but first thing in the morning, he sought out Draco and told him what had taken place as well as cautioned him about Fenrir's ploy to enlist help. Unless they did something to forestall it, war could be coming their way sooner than imagined.


	37. Chapter 37

"Gunnolf? Where the hell have you been?" demanded Fenrir.

Gunnolf was passing by the main hall, on his way to Draco's private quarters, when Fenrir spotted him.

"Death Eater Assignment," was all he offered in reply. If Fenrir noticed his head beta's failure to address him with the customary 'my alpha' or 'sir', he made no mention of it.

"Took you long enough! That bastard, Malfoy's, cocked it all up. Took off with more than half my pack, he did! Haven't the faintest who's even with me anymore—No good, soft, bunch o' cunts. Do a quick count and report who's still here," barked Fenrir before distractedly looking around. "Now where in the bloody hell is Cora?"

He teetered his way to the nearest stone bench and sat down heavily on it. "Someone get the mediwitch—The blasted omegas can wait. She needs to see to her alpha right now."

He stretched out on the bench and looked like he may have passed out when he suddenly sat up and yelled at the werewolf standing closest to him, "Go check if there's any dittany that didn't get nicked by those thieves and get me some," then to no one in particular, "I'm gonna have a little lie down till then."

Fenrir lay back down. It was unclear if he was asleep or not, but he did not stir again.

Gunnolf, who had stood in place watching Fenrir instead of doing as ordered, was alarmed by the state of affairs since his return to Bleidd that afternoon. He would have arrived sooner if not for their impromptu trip to the Death Eater base that morning. He had agreed to take Hermione to the unplottable location thinking at worst her wolf would vent her rage by tearing up the furnishings in the place. Even if the structure was made of brick and sticks, it was reinforced with potent magic so he was not prepared when she blasted chunks off the walls and caused the floor to sink.

Having lived most of his life exclusively around werewolves, Gunnolf was used to seeing amazing feats of physical strength, but he had never witnessed magic like this before. He had fallen to his knees, watching his alpha in action. Even in her fury and madness, she was a sight to behold as with a graceful twirl of her fingers and flick of her wrist she unleashed destruction on the place she had been held captive. Watching the corners of her mouth lift into the smallest of smiles as she admired her handiwork it was clear, Fenrir would be shown no mercy.

Gunnolf watched her work, awestruck. He needed to repeatedly remind his wolf that he would only make a fool of himself if he attempted to impress this bitch—she was not for him. She was Draco's fated mate and he hoped, for the sake of the man he called a brother, the mate pull was strong enough that Hermione's wolf did not end up rejecting Draco for being so very inferior to her.

They had portkeyed to Britain soon after, where Gunnolf parted ways from Hermione in a Muggle part of Wales before apparating to Bleidd. Upon his arrival, he was astonished to find there were no guards in sight. Foot patrol was usually light the day after the full moon, but never completely absent. Given the hour, the betas should have recovered and taken to their posts, but every checkpoint, on his way to the castle and inside, was unmanned.

Gunnolf dashed towards pack quarters, knowing he was bound to find Draco, Cora or Oskar there. Along the way, he observed that instead of slumbering in their quarters, as they usually would, many pack members were resting in and around the main hall. Every one of them sported bruises and, even in passing, their injuries looked far more serious than anything typically sustained during their full moon brawls.

The sound of Fenrir ranting and raving, as he paced up and down the length of the main hall, reached him but in spite of his keen hearing, no sense could be made of Fenrir's angry mutterings. A quick peek inside showed a feral-looking Fenrir chastising his betas while they stood around looking miserable. Not wishing to deal with Fenrir till he had spoken with Draco, Gunnolf had attempted to sneak past the alpha unnoticed, but failed.

Once it looked like Fenrir was not going to get up again anytime soon, Gunnolf signalled to a couple of the betas to follow him as he stepped outside the hall to have a private chat with them. The worn-out looking werewolves spared no details, telling Gunnolf about Draco's failed attempt to challenge the alpha, Fenrir's chilling revelation of what he had done to Hermione, the unprecedented battle between pack members, and the temporary truce negotiated by Draco that prevented Fenrir from carrying out retribution within a twenty-four hour period.

It came to light that the alpha's magic had become unstable ever since his fight with Hermione. Subsequently, more than physical wounds, Fenrir was worried about any adverse effect his most recent fight may have had on his abilities and powers as an alpha. With his weakness exposed, Fenrir was afraid of being abandoned by the rest of his pack. His insecurities led him to force the pack to gather around him in the main hall so he could keep an eye on them until the truce period expired. The ones too injured or exhausted to move were dragged physically, as close as he could in his current state, by Fenrir himself.

As if losing half his pack in one night was not bad enough, Fenrir's bad day only got worse after he received a puzzling howler from a couple of high-ranking Death Eaters. The voices mentioned something about them having fulfilled their part of the deal by providing information about the elf. They threatened Fenrir for attempting to deceive them and ordered him to immediately deliver their payment to Chateau Lestrange in person. Fenrir had looked more confused than concerned throughout, and his betas thought he would have disregarded the severity of his wounds and answered the Death Eater summons if he did not question his pack's loyalty to him.

While Gunnolf was still catching up on everything that had taken place since moonrise, someone had located Cora. He had no chance to talk to her or even draw her attention as she was rushed to Fenrir's side. Cora's hands moved automatically, going about the task of changing Fenrir's dressing and healing him, but her primary focus was on questioning the alpha about Zoey's whereabouts. Gunnolf watched Cora's frustration mount as Fenrir ignored her questions. The older alpha wasn't interested in talking about anything other than Draco and the many ways in which he planned to torture the newly minted alpha as soon as he was healed.

No one knew where Draco might have taken his pack, so it was a relief to see Cora still around, even if he did not know what to make of her presence. Given what he now knew of Draco's departure from Bleidd, Cora's choice not to follow her alpha was puzzling. He doubted Cora wished to bond with Fenrir again and could not imagine a scenario where their tough mediwitch was coerced into staying against her wishes. There was no point in guessing at Cora's motives, he would simply ask her once they had a chance to speak in private.

What happened next took them all by surprise. One moment he was trying to catch Cora's attention while she worked on Fenrir and the next moment the hall was stormed by a group of Death Eaters, who within minutes had every werewolf, except for Fenrir, subdued and laid out on the floor. Unaware of what was going on, it seemed wiser not to resist at the time and just see what happened, but the Death Eaters' ability to pull off a surprise attack on them confirmed a suspicion long held by many in the pack; Fenrir shared details pertaining to the castle's security and pack operations with outsiders.

A pair of important-looking Death Eaters entered, their regal black robes billowing around them. From the things the men would go on to say, along with what he knew of the howler Fenrir had received that day, Gunnolf would come to realise that these men were the Lestrange brothers.

"Did you seriously imagine you'd get out of paying by sending an owl, you foolish mutt? You need a lesson on how to treat your betters."

The wizards tossed a mangled pile of fur, flesh and bones at Fenrir's feet. It looked like the remains of a creature but with the numerous odours cloying to it, it was impossible to identify what it may have been. It was equally impossible to ignore the words coming out of the brothers' mouths as they gleefully described the inventive ways in which they had raped a pregnant Ginny Weasley. Although he never cared one way or another about the witch, Gunnolf's hackles rose, hearing the way these men spoke about her.

His fury only increased when he heard the rest of it and managed to piece together what had actually taken place.

The Death Eaters had provided Fenrir with information about an elf. As payment, he was supposed to give them Ginny Weasley on the sly for a night. However, since Draco had executed their plan at some point and replaced Ginny with Zoey, Fenrir had unwittingly given them a polyjuiced Zoey instead of the redhead. When they discovered the deception, the Lestranges were livid and punished the creature for Fenrir's attempt to cheat them.

Simultaneously, every werewolf in the room stared in horror as they realised that the remains callously discarded near Fenrir's feet was all that was left of one of their own, with Cora and Gunnolf feeling the added pain of knowing just who it had been.

The brothers ordered their men to find the pregnant redhead, entertaining themselves while they waited by casting crucios at the werewolves. Once again, Fenrir was spared.

When their men returned empty-handed, they issued an ultimatum.

One of the brothers stared pointedly at Fenrir and in a menacing tone, said, "Deliver us our payment by sunset tomorrow, Greyback."

"Yes. We'd hate to risk a crucio from the Dark Lord for killing a filthy mongrel like you," added the other with a snicker, reminding Fenrir of his insignificance to their organisation

Fenrir began to rant and rave as soon as the Death Eaters left, but he wasn't angry with the men who had just humiliated him and hurt his pack. He blamed Draco for what had taken place.

"That sonafaitch Draco, tricked us all," Fenrir whined. "I'll teach that bastard a lesson ... Soon as I get word to Lucius Malfoy about what his brat's been up to—"

Bodies were strewn about the hall, groaning in pain from either the crucios or battle wounds reopened by them. Gunnolf searched for Cora among them, knowing she would be in need of consolation following what they had discovered about Zoey, but she could not be found. The mediwitch had left Bleidd.

With Cora gone, there was no need to stick around any longer. Taking advantage of the chaos in the room, as the injured tried to heal each other, Gunnolf also slipped away. He was barely down the corridor when he got the impression he was being followed.

He turned around and stared at the shadows until a group of omegas stepped into view.

"What do you think you're doing?"

"Just following you, sir."

"No, you're not. Turn around," he ordered flatly before going on his way.

The group wasn't easily deterred and continued to follow him.

Gunnolf scowled at them. "Why are you still following me?"

"We're omegas, but we're not stupid, sir. Unlike the alpha we notice things."

"And what is it you think you've noticed, pup?"

"You no longer follow Fenrir Greyback. We know you're leaving Bleidd, sir, and we wish to join you."

"If you wanted to leave Bleidd, you should've left with Draco this morning. Now turn around."

"We stayed because we were too scared of what would happen if we left," said one.

"But it's clear now that the alpha plans to punish even the ones who stayed," said another.

"And it looks like there's going to be trouble with the Death Eaters come sunset tomorrow," a third chimed in.

"If you're looking to run away because you're scared of fighting then following me is the worst choice you could make right now."

"It isn't the fight we run away from, sir. The alpha had no problem ordering us to kill Draco and other members of our pack last night, but never acted against the outsiders who attacked us in our house today," said one of the few betas in the group. "If we are to die, we'd rather die fighting our true enemies."

Gunnolf growled in frustration but made no further attempts to stop them. The group following him grew larger as he made his way out the castle and past its wards.

Gunnolf apparated them to an abandoned Muggle house and the werewolves were taken aback to find Hermione waiting there, instead of Draco, as they were probably expecting. Attired in some strange-looking clothes, presumably Muggle, Hermione appeared far more composed now than she did this morning.

He ignored the murmurs from the _weres_ standing behind him when he dropped to his knees, and again, when he addressed Hermione as his alpha during his rushed explanation for why he had taken longer than expected only to return with members of Fenrir's pack. Gunnolf was more afraid now than he was when the Lestranges attacked. Despite her seemingly good mood, there was no telling how Hermione's wolf would react to him showing up with nearly two dozen werewolves and no clues for where her pups and Draco might be.

* * *

Through sheer chance Hermione happened to notice the abandoned suburban house in the Muggle town they had arrived in. While she waited for Gunnolf to return, Hermione enjoyed an evening of dull normalcy, the likes of which she had ceased to remember ever existing.

The old Muggle house, devoid of magic, was a throwback to the familiar world of her childhood that preceded the arrival of her Hogwarts letter. Here, it was easy for Hermione to pretend she was just another Muggle girl as she put on a pair of oversized jeans and a faded Oasis T-shirt she found among the items left behind by the house's previous occupants. She nearly cried when she found an unopened pack of her mother's favourite brand of tea among the tea things and proceeded to prepare the beverage like she remembered watching her mother do so many times as a child. There was no milk, of course, and insects had gotten into the sugar, but the tea still tasted just as good to her.

Hermione made herself comfortable, settling into a cushy armchair she had spent a good deal of time beating the dust out of, with a chipped cup of tea in one hand and a dog-eared book—another treasure discovered during her exploration of the house—in the other. The tension began to leave her body as she immersed herself in the silly tale of a naive young woman seduced by her older and more worldly boss. Engaged in her game of pretend, Hermione relaxed to the point she fell asleep, only to be woken much later by the loud crack of apparition in the adjoining room.

Inexplicably, Gunnolf had returned with company, a sorry bunch of werewolves the she-wolf regarded with disdain. Hermione patiently listened to Gunnolf explain himself, reserving questions for when she would speak with him alone later. Once he finished, she directed her attention to the fidgety group behind him.

"Is there something you wish to say?"

They looked at each other until one of them spoke, albeit hesitantly.

"There's been some confusion, is a'. We came along thinking Gunnolf was taking us to Draco 'n' th' rest. Dinna ken what's gone on 'ere, but we ... eh ... We dinna want no—"

"This isn't what we left Bleidd for," someone else declared definitively.

Whatever was going on did not concern her. The she-wolf returned to the armchair, occupying it like it was a throne.

Gunnolf got to his feet and addressed the group.

"Planning to return to Bleidd and Fenrir then, are you? Because if you leave now that's the only option you have left."

"We'd be better off on our own," stated one of the betas. "No offence to Hermione," she added, briefly looking Hermione's way, "I have a great deal of admiration for her. But, just coz she's carrying Fenrir's pups doesn't make her fit to be an alpha."

The she-wolf's look of disinterest changed to one of antipathy.

"Who said I'm carrying Fenrir's pups?"

"Fenrir did. He told us he had fucked you enough times to knock you up," someone else replied crudely.

The she-wolf bared her fangs and snarled in warning, "Watch your tone, wolf."

Ignoring the collective gasp from the group, she rose from the armchair and approached them.

"I want to make something clear and then I want you gone," she told them in a tone that brook no argument. "I'd rather rip the pups out of my womb than let that foul creature's seed grow inside me. I am not pregnant and he didn't _fuck_ me. He imprisoned me, drugged me and _raped_ me. If the coward had not run away from our fight, he'd already be dead for his crimes."

When it looked like no one was going to say anything, Gunnolf spoke up.

"Hermione, my alpha, these people need your help"—he glared at the group behind him—"whether they realise it or not. You cannot turn them away. They need an alpha."

Hermione glared at Gunnolf, exasperated. What did he expect her to do when they did not want her as alpha?

"Fight them. _Make them_ submit to you. It's the only way they'll see you're their best choice right now."

"My wolf doesn't even want them in my pack."

"But you do need a pack," pointed out Gunnolf.

"It wouldn't be a fair fight—"

"Yeah, there's twenty-two of us," said one of the betas.

"—They're mostly omegas and they're all injured. It's beneath me."

"It'll end their doubts in a hurry."

Seeing Gunnolf's point, Hermione shrugged and transformed into her wolf, thinking she may as well get it over with.

"What in Hades is that?" cried one of the omegas, the room now abuzz with nervous murmurs.

She supposed her wolf would cut an imposing figure within the confines of the small and over-crowded living room. She rolled her shoulders, cracking her spine and flexing her muscles—she had never felt this good in her wolf form before. Hermione could feel more than one wolf bond with her, accepting her as alpha even if their humans had yet to say so.

With not enough space to prowl like she wanted to, Hermione impatiently tapped the floor with one of her paws, claws clacking noisily on the wooden floor as she waited for an opponent to step forward. When they continued to talk amongst themselves, she grew bored and changed back into her human form.

"Are we fighting, or did I just ruin a pair of jeans for nothing?" asked Hermione, looking with regret at the tattered pieces of the garment lying on the floor.

"Fight or submit, because we don't have time to waste," Gunnolf snapped at the group, then turned to Hermione, "We'll have to hide them somewhere. Fenrir will be looking for his pack soon as the truce ends."

"Won't he have his hands full with the Death Eaters?" asked Hermione.

"No, Fenrir may not be the brightest alpha, but he's one cunning wolf. He's gonna use Lucius Malfoy to go after Draco and the pack. Can't imagine any place in Britain safe for the pack when that happens."

Hermione looked towards the group of werewolves who were on their knees now. They had submitted and she could feel tendrils of their magic entwining with hers. The she-wolf was right, they were a sorry bunch, but they were hers now.

She sighed loudly, then closed her eyes and tried to concentrate on the bonds forming between them. They were hurt, confused and scared, so Hermione did what came naturally to her and reached out to them, pushing all the comfort and reassurance she could muster their way through the bond.

There were gasps, and even some tears this time, as the battered wolves experienced for the first time what it meant to be cared for by their alpha. They drew closer to her, hesitant initially, but when she did not object, they huddled around her, drawing strength and comfort from their alpha.

Hermione herself was overwhelmed by everything she was experiencing in those moments, unable to distinguish her own emotions from theirs. The muggle, the witch and the wolf all melted into one being, the pack.


	38. Chapter 38

There was no time to mourn for Zoey or even reflect upon how they could have prevented her tragic demise. As soon as Oskar finished telling him about the events that had transpired following the pack's departure from Bleidd, Draco was contemplating strategies to ensure the safety of his pack.

Upon considering all his options, Draco concluded, with the pack as vulnerable as it was, he did not have the luxury of time to execute the silent coup he and Theo had been working towards all this time. 'The hand which strikes also blocks,' was a tip Oskar often gave pups while sparring. Oskar had been right all along about the necessity of war. It was time to go on the offensive.

A plan of action decided, Draco summoned Mipsy and asked the elf to take him to his sons. As per Draco's instructions, the elf had rented a wizarding home near Lake Victoria. To Draco's relief, the modest abode was secure enough that in the event of an attack the inhabitants of the house would be alerted and able to disapparate to safety long before its wards were breached.

When Draco had charged Mipsy with hiding his sons from Fenrir and the Death Eaters, he had not anticipated needing to keep his pups away from the pack for more than a couple of days while they adjusted to their new surroundings. As much as he disliked being separated from his family, in light of recent developments, it was safer to continue to hide his sons until the threat had passed.

Despite the urgency of the situation, Draco took a moment to reassure himself that Wilbur and Martin were doing okay. He knelt on the floor beside the bed so his face was in level with his sons and ran his hands on each of their heads. Previously bald, their heads now sported a light sprinkling of that signature shade of Malfoy blond hair he could have sworn had grown overnight. It could have been a simple case of his memory playing tricks on him, but these days it always felt like the twins had achieved some new milestone while he was preoccupied with something else. He was missing out on watching his sons grow and he hated it.

While Draco spent time with his sons, he sent Mipsy to Pansy with a request. He needed to speak with Theo over a secure connection on an urgent basis.

As was typical of any wizarding home, the house at Lake Victoria possessed a fireplace connected to the floo network even if it was currently warded shut. Before readying the fireplace to receive calls, Draco hastily scribbled a short note for Mipsy to deliver to his mother, his first direct communication with her since he was disowned. Quill in hand, Draco realised there was a lot he wanted to say to his mother, none of it relevant to what he needed from her at the time, so he stuck to the bare facts.

_Mother,_

_I have left Bleidd Castle. I cannot say where I am, but I am fine. _

_Ginevra Weasley miscarried last month; she was returned to the Order a few days ago._

_Greyback is still alive and plans to use Lucius to find me._

_I have a plan but I will need your help. _

_Love,_

_Draco._

His clever mother would read between the lines and understand that his request involved a degree of risk for her. Considering what he knew from Theo of his mother's recent actions, she would no doubt agree to help. However, he expected her to place some conditions, or at least set limits to how much she would be willing to help. Her simple three-line response came as a surprise.

_My dearest boy,_

_You only have to ask._

_Your ever-loving mother._

Draco was stirred to tears. It occurred to him that, as far as his mother was concerned, nothing had changed between them.

He carefully folded the note and put it away for now. He wrote a short response thanking his mother and asking her to block all forms of communication between Fenrir and Lucius for the day and to do whatever it took to ensure Lucius did not leave the Manor until they received news of an attack on Malfoy Potions.

Malfoy Potions was not exactly the cash cow of Malfoy Enterprises, but it was the sole company charged with the commercial and wholesale production of Fero. With so many of their local and international policies now dependent on the trade of Fero, the formula was a closely guarded secret. Any disruption in the supply chain would have far-reaching consequences. At the very least, Lucius Malfoy would have his hands full, answering the Dark Lord and working on producing replacements, if their entire stock of Fero was destroyed.

Draco took out the two-way mirror he needed to contact Potter. The Order did not know it yet, but if he had his way, they were going to have a remarkably productive day.

"Draco," Potter greeted.

"Harry," he returned. It was strange to refer to Potter in such a familiar manner.

Potter looked far worse than he did the last time they spoke. Tempting as it was to tell Potter to start using glamour spells if he did not want to be mistaken for an Azkaban escapee, Draco opted to ask about how Ginny was faring.

"She's...um... Well, let's put it this way, I wish we had listened to your healer. She was right about Ginny and we were wrong. We just assumed we knew better because, we're the ones who know Ginny best. Instead I think—" he paused and shook his head. "We've made it worse. She's pulling away from us. We can all feel it."

Potter pulled at his hair, making it look even more dishevelled.

"The Weasleys have always been a lively bunch but they have to walk on eggshells around Ginny now for fear of startling her and setting her off. Molly's hurting because she can't understand why Ginny won't talk to her. She doesn't get why Ginny felt comfortable talking to one of her captors, but refuses to talk to us."

Even with the recovery made at Bleidd, the alterations in Ginny would have been a shock to her loved ones. Potter, clearly still in love with Ginny, was hurting from not knowing how to help her. The situation, tough enough for any normal person, was probably devastating for Potter, who suffered from a massive saviour complex. Draco wondered how he would cope if he found himself in a similar position with Hermione.

"Just give her time and space ... and follow whatever advice Cora gave you. Even Hermione couldn't get through to Ginny in the way Cora did."

Draco could not think of anything else to say to reassure Potter, they weren't exactly friends.

"Have you figured out who set up Ginny to get caught that night?"

Potter shook his head, the dismal expression on his face changing to something much darker.

"Each of the suspects on the list we narrowed down is a trusted, long-time member of the Order. We don't have access to veritaserum so conducting interrogations is a bit of a challenge—"

Veritaserum had always been a controlled substance, but at least the ingredients used to be freely available before so any skilled potioneer could brew a batch should they wish to do so. That was no longer possible.

"As a precaution Ginny's staying with Arthur and Molly. No one's allowed to visit her, apart from her brothers and me."

Draco nodded in approval. "Well, I called because I have news on Hermione and a mission for the Order."

—

"That bastard Greyback, I'm going to kill him," declared Potter with a cold glint in his eyes after hearing what Fenrir had done to his best friend.

"Get in line, Potter," he replied stoically, then gave a brief summary of how he had ended up in Uganda and what he discovered since.

"Thank Merlin, she's alive! When we couldn't find her I was so sure she was—" Harry wiped at the corner of his eyes, tilted his head back and sighed. "But she's alive and that's all that matters. _She's alive_," he repeated, eyes crinkling and the corners of his mouth turning upwards. "Let me know what I can do to help find her. Is the mission you mentioned related to Hermione?"

Draco shook his head and told Harry about Zoey, the Lestranges and Fenrir's plan to use Lucius to come after him.

"And that was supposed to be Ginny?" asked Harry in a choked voice. This was perhaps his first inkling of the kind of hell Ginny had survived.

Draco nodded.

"They have all the power and _this_ is how they choose to wield it"—Harry gritted his teeth—"by torturing and killing a little girl." H looeked away and shook his head. "Ever since the Death Eaters gained control of the Ministry their bloodlust has only increased. I'm so tired of hiding, being safely tucked away while Riddle and his followers destroy everything we care about bit by bit."

Listening to Harry practically growl in frustration, Draco was certain his plan would be wholeheartedly welcomed. "I have a mission for the Order," he said, "perhaps more than one, which you should find quite satisfying."

Draco gave Harry the Order's first task of the day: Attack Malfoy Potions and destroy their supplies of Fero. Growing up, Draco had spent enough time around Lucius' businesses to be familiar with the layout of his factories as well as their vulnerabilities. The Order only needed a skilled curse-breaker in their team to deal with the wards; otherwise, acting on his intel, any of their members could successfully carry out an attack on Malfoy Potions.

At the sound of the floo chiming in the background, Draco concluded his call with Harry. They would talk again once Harry put together a team for the task. With the limited amount of time they had to act, Harry wanted Draco to brief the team himself. Draco agreed, no longer concerned about word of him working with the Order getting out.

Draco crouched before the small fireplace and was greeted by a grumpy-looking Theo Nott.

"Do you have any idea how early it is?"

In fact, Draco had forgotten about the time difference, but given the circumstances, he would not have shown Theo the courtesy of waiting even if he had remembered.

"Is this secure?" he asked referring to the call.

"Yes, I'm using Pansy's floo," replied Theo, adding in a stage whisper, "And unless Eugenie wants her husband or _the Ministry_ to find out about her illicit use of the contraceptive potion, she'll strike this conversation from their records."

Draco snickered at Theo's underhanded manner of ensuring compliance by implicating the witch at the very start of their call. Still, they would need to be careful about what they said, lest she consider it safer to come clean about her own activities than risk being caught up in any obvious scheme to commit treason.

"Greyback's alive."

"So you're still at Bleidd?"

Draco shook his head. "I'm where I said I'd be."

"But, Greyback's still around? I take it not everything went to plan."

"I underestimated him... Anyway, he plans to use Red to make them come after me."

"How?"

"Lionel Mayfield."

"Wait, it's still too early for this," complained Theo and summoned the encrypted parchment with the list of codenames they had previously agreed upon.

"Ah," he said, realising Draco was referring to Lucius. "But, with junior out of the picture why would he care?"

"He doesn't know it yet. He'll want to recover his belongings."

"And Greyback plans to convince them you're the thief who's taken off with his goods?"

Draco nodded again.

"Hmm. That's tough. Greyback may not have the resources to find you, but Lionel does... What's your plan?"

"Nothing," said Draco, faking nonchalance. "I figured Lionel's going to be too busy putting out fires in his own backyard to bother me for a while."

"Sounds like you have this handled, what do you need from me?"

"Time to start knocking down some pillars," said Draco, referring to the Dark Lord's key supporters, who were pivotal players in the Death Eater organisation as well as the Ministry.

"And you wish to start with me."

It wasn't a question. Theo would have understood that Draco meant to start with his father.

"Figured it would be the easiest one," said Draco with a slight shrug, "given the lack of time."

"When?"

"No later than tomorrow."

"Fuck!" Theo screwed his eyes shut. "I thought we'd have more time..."

"Me too."

Theo exhaled loudly then looked at Draco with resignation. "Well, at least Pansy will be happy."

"I can imagine."

"Will you be sending your people?"

Draco shook his head.

"I'm going to ask the scarred one to handle it."

Any damage done to the Death Eaters would have twice as great an impact once the Dark Lord learnt it was carried out by Harry Potter and his merry band of misfits.

Theo nodded.

"Send your elf to Pansy in an hour. I'll get you the schedules by then."

"Thanks, Theo. You know you'll have to get that seat at the table now."

Theo did not exactly roll his eyes, but the expression he wore, he may as well have. "Goes without saying, Draco."

Raised as Pureblood elite, they were taught about power dynamics at an early age. Both men knew that in a power vacuum one needed to be the first to act. Theo was going to have to do whatever it took to ensure he became a part of Voldemort's inner circle once his father was out.

"You've been around non-Slytherins for too long," ribbed Theo, expressing Draco's own unvoiced thought at the time.

* * *

By the time Potter called, Draco had sketched the layout of the factory, highlighting the areas to focus on and the ones to avoid. Introductions were quickly made by Potter before they jumped into discussing the plan. It was a surprise that no one commented on Draco being the one to brief them, despite the number of Weasleys in attendance. The Weasel himself only spoke to ask questions about the layout as he copied Draco's map.

Draco wanted them to attack during operational hours so they could move freely inside the factory by blending in with the rest of the employees; something easily achieved by transfiguring their robes to look like the ones worn by the workers. However, Potter was concerned about workers ending up as collateral damage. At Potter's insistence, they amended the plan. They would enter the factory during the day, but destroy the potion stocks at night, when no one was likely to be around.

Draco could not grasp the specifics of everything Harry said, what he broadly understood was that the Order, low on resources after they went into hiding, had learnt to use Muggle explosives. Arthur Weasley, who was fond of tinkering with Muggle devices, along with his sons, the prankster twins, had figured out how to build simple bombs that could be triggered by a timer.

The Weasel asked all kinds of questions about the structure till it became clear they planned to blow up the factory itself, something Draco had no qualms about. The bigger the problem they could create for Lucius right now, the better it would be for the Order's image.

Sometime during his briefing with the Order, Mipsy returned with a set of schedules for Nott Senior and other high-ranking officials. For a while now, Theo had his contacts watch the movements of members in the Dark Lord's inner circle, as a result he had information on when and where these men and women were likely to be at their most vulnerable. Studying the schedules, Draco was able to identify two other prominent Death Eaters they could successfully ambush that evening.

Draco's plan was simple—attack, and if possible kidnap, the worst offenders, thus forcing the less-zealous-and-more-easily-scared Death Eaters like the Parkinsons and Greengrasses to reconsider their choices. The Death Eaters had used a similar strategy to garner support when they first began. So many had joined their ranks only because it had been far more dangerous to refuse the Dark Lord. The influential few, who continued to support the Dark Lord just because they did not suffer under the new regime, would be convinced through fear-mongering tactics to join the revolution.

Draco looked down at the twins struggling to get their father's attention by grabbing at his hands. He placed a finger within each curled up chubby fist and smiled fondly when they squeezed at the same time. Draco took a short break from his plotting to play with his sons. After all, when it came down to it, everything he was doing was meant to secure a better future for them.

* * *

Hermione needed a place to hide the pack until she re-established contact with either the Order or Draco's newly formed pack.

_Can't imagine any place in Britain safe for the pack._ Gunnolf's words echoed in her head.

Hermione disagreed. She could think of one place in Britain where the Death Eaters would both, fear to venture into and would definitely be unwelcome.

If there was any truth, to the things she had heard during her time at Bleidd, it wasn't just the werewolves Voldemort had conducted his twisted experiments on. And while the werewolf experiments had borne fruit when she fell pregnant, the rest of the creature experiments ended up being just a more methodical form of torture.

Even though the Death Eaters had taken control of Hogwarts, the Forbidden Forest, with its abundance of dangerous creatures, would be out of their reach despite its proximity. It seemed safe to gamble on the assumption that the Forest's creatures were disgruntled enough to provide her pack refuge.

And so, alpha Hermione decided it was time for her to return to Hogwarts or more specifically, the Forbidden Forest.


	39. Chapter 39

Bordering the grounds of Hogwarts, the Forbidden Forest was an untamed stretch of woodlands that did not easily reveal its secrets to outsiders. The aptly named forest was home to a wide assortment of flora and fauna, most of which were more likely to kill you than not. The ancient forest remained largely uncharted due to its dangerous inhabitants, who turned especially hostile when confronted by humans within territory they had long claimed for themselves.

Before the Death Eaters took control of Hogwarts, as Keeper of the school grounds, Rubeus Hagrid had been charged with the care of the forest, but, in the years following the death of their beloved headmaster, Hagrid had disappeared and the school board had seen no need to foist the dangerous job on anyone else.

Wizarding Britain was in general far too prejudiced to even recognise the creatures within the forest as sentient beings let alone citizens of their society. The Death Eaters had nothing to gain politically by attempting to gain control of the forest and were only likely to end up dead if they ventured inside. Hermione was therefore confident her pack would be able to enter the Forbidden Forest without encountering as much as a single Black Cloak.

Her confidence was not misplaced.

Under the cover of night, Hermione's pack apparated to the Forbidden Forest. The sight of Hogwarts castle looming in the background made Hermione's heart clench as she thought about everything the edifice had come to represent to her over the years. She was no longer naive enough to think they would rid the world of all its prejudices, but she hoped that by the time they were done, the school could be a safe haven for _any_ magical child seeking an education.

Inside the forest, it wasn't long before Magorian, the leader of the centaur colony residing in the Forbidden Forest, sent two of his representatives to Hermione.

The chestnut-haired centaur stared down at the pack with open hostility while the other—the one with the light skin and brilliant red hair—eyed Hermione with curiosity. It wasn't until he spoke that Hermione recognised him as the centaur who had tried to protect Harry and her, during their skirmish with Umbridge and the centaurs in the Forbidden Forest, all those years ago.

"You're not a foal anymore," he pointed out.

"I'm not entirely human either," said Hermione, adding with a thumb jerk towards her pack, "None of us are."

The centaurs snorted.

"You may not be a human, but you're hardly the same as them."

"They're my pack," she said, "and we seek refuge within the forest."

The centaurs shook their heads in unison.

"You trespass on our land and you know it. We will not yield to any other creatures."

"I do not wish to fight you—"

"That is not a choice for you to make," said the chestnut-haired centaur with a sneer.

Hermione ignored the interruption and continued to address the red-haired centaur.

"I do not wish to fight you as I seek you as an ally. Muggles have a saying: The enemy of my enemy is my friend."

The centaurs' ears pricked up and their pupils dilated ever so slightly, signalling their interest.

"The one who calls himself the Dark Lord and his followers, the Death Eaters—"

The centaur's expressions soured at the mere mention of their enemies, yet they expressed a surprisingly indifferent stance.

"The Death Eaters are of no concern to us anymore. We have a truce with them. They stay out of our forest and we steer clear of their business."

The she-wolf was growing frustrated with the attitude of the creatures before her. Could they not see it was in their mutual interest to work together?

"Then your people must not have been among the unfortunate beings who lost their dignity and their lives to the vile _experiments_ carried out by the Death Eaters. We weren't as lucky. Enticed with the promise of children, my kind allowed themselves to be brutalised by the Death Eaters," she calmly informed them. "But, it wasn't just the werewolves. I heard about giants and other magical folk being subjected to a similar treatment."

They did not need to admit to anything. From the way their nostrils flared, it was certain the centaurs had not been exempt either.

Hermione pressed on.

"The Dark Lord sold a lie to everyone. He wasn't trying to help anyone. The whole time he was only looking to build himself an army of loyal, invincible soldiers."

The centaurs gave an imperceptible nod of agreement.

"Tom Riddle, the man you know as the Dark Lord, has an insatiable greed for power. He's defiled his own soul for a piece of immortality. He won't stop of his own free will. You, who read the stars, know that Harry Potter will defeat the Dark Lord. But what about the Death Eaters? As powerful as they are now, do you imagine they will simply disappear once their leader falls? They helped create this Dark Lord, unless we stand in solidarity to strongly condemn their abhorrent actions, in due time a new tyrant will be aiming their wand at us."

"Funny you should mention Harry Potter," said the chestnut-haired centaur.

Hermione did not get to ask what he meant. Blindsided, she was knocked out cold by a succession of stunning spells.

* * *

Hermione woke up with a throbbing headache, which, as far as she could tell, was the extent of the damage she had suffered from whatever attacked her. However, her immediate concern was not for herself.

Knowing the centaurs would respond to any perceived threat, however slight, with extreme aggression, she had ordered her pack not to attack anyone, no matter the circumstance, while she negotiated with the centaurs. With her newfound abilities, she was capable of escaping to safety herself, but even her wolf did not think she could take on an entire colony of centaurs to protect her pack if a fight broke out. Now, she sincerely hoped she had not sentenced them to their deaths with her order.

Her hands and feet were bound, but in a manner that did not cause her discomfort. Instead of the stone floor, she had been placed on a relatively comfortable, makeshift bed of grass and leaves. The consideration shown made Hermione think the situation may not be hopeless after all.

Having sensed that she was not alone as soon as she gained consciousness, she stared directly at the man lurking in the shadows of the cave; he would not know that she could see him quite clearly thanks to her lupine vision. The person had a familiar smell, but the face belonged to a stranger.

_Polyjuice._

And since she could not identify the person by their scent, it was someone she had known before she was turned.

After all the times she had been knocked unconscious and kidnapped, Hermione felt oddly composed as she went through the now familiar routine of waking up in a strange new place. Although the restless she-wolf wanted to break her restraints and fight her way to freedom, it was far more prudent to first learn where she was and what was going on.

"Who are you? Why are you holding me?" she asked quietly.

The stranger did not speak, or even look at her. They kept their distance, staying in the shadows as they checked their watch every few minutes and continued to stare at her. It was as if they suspected her of using polyjuice herself and were waiting for the potion's effects to wear off.

It wasn't long before Hermione got the pleasant shock of watching the stranger's face morph into the familiar features of her dear old friend.

"_Harry?_" she asked, uncertain at first if it was truly him. Once sure, she flung herself at him crying out, "Harry!"

Instead of returning the hug as expected, Harry produced a bucket of cold water out of nowhere and emptied its contents on her.

"Harry! ... What in blazes—" she spluttered.

"Oh Merlin, Hermione!" said Harry, speaking at last. "Sorry, just needed to make sure it was really you."

Hermione gaped at him in disbelief.

"Okay, but did you have to give me a wash first? I would have gotten around to—" she stopped short, something suddenly occurring to her. "Merlin, I can't remember the last time I took a wash"—her voice grew shrill—"or even a scourgify! Goodness." She looked away feeling embarrassed at first but then grew indignant. She narrowed her eyes at him. "Okay, so maybe I don't smell quite as _fresh_, but still Harry, priorities! Besides, you can't just go around greeting old friends in this manner. It's just so...so...incredibly _rude_."

Harry cut off the rest of her rant by engulfing her in a tight hug.

"It's really you, thank Godric!"

If it were anyone else, she might have complained about the embrace being a little too tight for comfort, but coming from her best friend, who she had not seen in so long, Hermione found the hug to be just perfect.

"I've missed you too, dear boy," she said, relaxing into his hold. Then remembering the circumstances of their meeting, she began to fire questions at him in rapid succession.

"But, what are you doing here? ...and where is here? Are you working with the centaurs? ...or did you rescue me from the centaurs? Where's my pa—"

"Merlin, Hermione! Take a moment to breathe. Or at least give me a moment to answer your questions," Harry teased.

"I'm sorry," she replied sheepishly, "just checking if we're safe."

"We're safe. And we're still in the Forbidden Forest."

As Harry explained his presence in the Forbidden Forest, Hermione discovered she was not the only one who had thought to seek sanctuary there.

After Hermione and Ginny were captured, as a safety measure the Order abandoned the safe houses known to the two witches. Naturally, Harry needed to be relocated, and since the Order could find no place safe for him to stay at for too long, it was not long before he was tired of doing nothing but move from one hideout to another. As always, Harry acted on instinct, deciding to try his luck in the Forbidden Forest.

When the centaurs found him trespassing, Harry did not even have to ask for asylum before they offered him their protection. They were angry, having cause to believe the Dark Lord and his followers had kidnapped and killed over a dozen centaurs from their colony in recent months. However, Magorian refused to let the herd leave the forest to attack the Death Eaters and violate their truce as there was no definite proof of their involvement.

Ever since the Death Eaters had taken control of Hogwarts, the forest's inhabitants noticed the mysterious disappearance of their fellow creatures and beings on a regular basis. They had all heard rumours of the Dark Lord trying to create some kind of abomination in his quest for the perfect soldier but received confirmation when one of the captured unicorns escaped and returned to the forest. The unicorn told them about a place that was little more than a slaughterhouse where bins overflowed with hands, hooves, and paws among other body parts. Everyone was on high alert after that, on the lookout for Death Eaters dishonouring their deal.

The centaurs, though fine with offering refuge to the child of prophecy, Harry Potter, weren't as welcoming of the rest of the Order, which was okay with the Order as securing Harry's safety was their chief concern. Consequently, Harry had spent the last few months alone, living in a cave deep within the centaur occupied portion of the Forbidden Forest and leaving only when his presence was required at an Order meeting.

Harry informed Hermione that the water he had unceremoniously dumped on her earlier was taken from the Thief's Fall in Gringotts. Griphook and Bill Weasley had finally succeeded in working out a method to secretly retrieve and store the water so that it retained its magical properties. They now routinely used the water on anyone they feared might be compromised by the Imperius curse or any other enchantments. Harry had used the magical water on Hermione to ensure she acted of her own free will.

"You have no idea how good it is to see you again, Hermione," said Harry emphatically. He looked tired and careworn well beyond his years, but there was no mistaking the genuine pleasure lighting up his eyes as he looked at her. "I mourned your passing, not once, but twice... I was sure we'd only meet again beyond the veil. Even though Draco insisted you were alive, I believed—"

Her body stiffened at the mention of Draco. It did not escape her attention that Harry referred to him by his given name and not Malfoy, as he normally would have.

Eyes narrowed, she asked, "You've spoken with Draco?"

"Yes," replied Harry warily, "a couple of times now."

"So you know...?" Nervous, Hermione chewed her lip.

"Quite a bit, yes. Though, most of it came from Ginny."

"You've spoken with Ginny?"

The corners of Harry's mouth lifted into a small smile. "She's back with the Order, Hermione. Draco as good as delivered her to us."

"Oh, he actually did it," she exclaimed in surprise.

"Yes," replied Harry softly.

There was an awkward moment of silence, as Hermione tried to figure out from where to even begin explaining what had happened between her and Draco.

"He's different now, isn't he?" asked Harry. "I mean, we're all different now, none of us are the same kids we were at Hogwarts, but Draco—He's a completely different person."

Hermione nodded.

"It's the wolf," she said, knowing firsthand how much the wolf could force the human to change in order to gain control over it. Part of her knew she wasn't being fair to Draco by attributing all the changes in him to his wolf alone.

Harry gave her a knowing look.

"Draco told me about what you did... in Uganda. Did you really wreck one of their bases all by yourself?" asked Harry, eyes twinkling.

Hermione ignored the question. She had some of her own that needed answers.

"Draco was there?"

"Yes. According to him, he may have missed you by only a few hours."

How was she supposed to feel about this new piece of information? The she-wolf had sown doubt in her heart so she questioned her feelings for Draco as well as his feelings for her. Having never met him, the she-wolf had judged Draco unworthy and made sure her human did not forget any of Draco's flaws; the greatest one being, that he did not come for her. The manipulative she-wolf knew just how to play on her insecurities, twisting her memories anytime she thought of Draco with fondness or pined for him.

_He doesn't think you're worthy._

_He thinks you're just a Mudblood... He always has._

_He was mating with other bitches even when you were there with him._

_His wolf would never have let you go if he wanted you as his mate._

_He has his pups, he no longer has any need for you._

But, Draco had escaped from Bleidd and gone to Uganda of all places. It could not have been a coincidence. It had to mean—

"...he's looking for me," she said.

"Yes. He took his pack to Uganda after he discovered that's where Greyback had imprisoned you and—"

The she-wolf snarled at Harry in warning.

"Sounds like you and Draco have been getting rather chummy in my absence." She stepped away from him to casually recline against the wall. "Go on now, tell me what else has _Draco _been telling you?"

Harry did not comment on it at the time, but he later told Hermione he had noticed the odd change in her speech and manner. He chose to ignore her uncharacteristic behaviour, realising he most likely upset her when he brought up Greyback. Overjoyed to have his best friend back and amazed by how resilient she appeared despite her recent experiences, Harry did not want to make a big deal out of any of her oddities, which included frequently sniffing him like he was the best thing she had smelled in a while. Compared with the dramatic alterations in Ginny, Hermione was practically her old self.

Harry responded to Hermione's inquiry by sharing everything Draco had told him, starting with his reasons for going to Uganda.

For someone who prioritised self-preservation, Draco's decision to leave Bleidd to go look for her in Uganda, as well as putting the pack's welfare over his desire for revenge proved that the Draco she had fallen in love with was not a figment of her imagination. However, the she-wolf was quick to remind her of Draco's unworthiness; he had fought an injured Fenrir, yet failed to kill him. The pack agreed with her wolf, seeing Draco's decision to negotiate with Fenrir as a sign of weakness.

_What good is a mate who can't protect you?_

_What good is a mate who chose to run to safety than kill the beast who threatened his pups and violated you?_

Hermione did not realise when Harry finished telling her about his call with Draco early this morning.

"Wow," said the she-wolf, admiring Harry's alpha-like qualities as he discussed his plans with her. She liked how he wasn't afraid of her or obsequious in any way. It also bode well that far from feeling threatened by such a powerful male, her human was comforted by his presence.

"Yeah, that's how I've been feeling this morning. Our whole existence has been reduced to hiding and surviving—It's a relief to be going on the offensive for a change," said Harry. He looked at his watch. "Speaking of, it's nearly time for our briefing with Draco so I need to go join the others."

Hermione nodded in acknowledgement and Harry gave her that knowing look again.

"There's a lot we," he gestured between them, "still need to discuss. I'm not going to tell Draco you're back till you and I have finished our talk—" he paused and looked at her expectantly.

On her part, Hermione was relieved. Needing to sort through her own conflicting emotions first, she wasn't quite ready to speak with Draco just yet. Thankfully, Harry spared her the mental turmoil by taking the decision out of her hands.

Her friend must have guessed the thought running through her head. He nodded once, muttering, "Right, thought as much."

If Hermione was Draco's only reason for helping the Order, it was best to delay any confrontation between them until after the completion of the day's missions.

"I'll be gone for a few hours," said Harry. "Do you want to check on that ragtag bunch you arrived with or do you want to come along?" He waved his wand at a portion of the wall to reveal an opening. "Ron'll be there. Bill and Fred, maybe Arthur too."

"How are the Weasleys?" She fell in step with Harry as he led the way out of a series of connecting maze like tunnels.

"They're hanging in there. They're tough, you know, but it is a struggle, trying to come to terms with the fact that Ginny's back, but she's not _really_ Ginny anymore."

Hermione knew what he meant. She remembered how unsettling it was to be around Ginny, like finding a stranger in her friend's skin.

"How is Ginny? Does she still hate me? I heard she's shown a great deal of improvement since she lost the baby, but—"

"Baby..." Harry suddenly stopped and turned to face Hermione. "What baby?"

Harry did not know about the pregnancy. Hermione closed her eyes. She had really put her foot in it. Of course, Ginny had chosen not to tell Harry about the baby!

Eyes narrowed, Harry demanded, "What baby, Hermione?"

It would be better to tell the truth before Harry assumed the worst. Although, given everything Ginny had been through it was hard to imagine what _that_ could be.

"What has Ginny told you, Harry?"

"She definitely hasn't told me anything about a baby. Was it," he gulped, "mine?"

Head bowed, Harry clutched his wand tightly as he appeared to contemplate the idea that he and Ginny had conceived and lost a child.

Hermione shook her head and told him about Voldemort's decision to use Ginny as a broodmare. She told him about Ginny's time at Malfoy Manor and Chateau Lestrange, about Lucius and Narcissa, the Lestranges and the Carrows.

Even though she could not truly convey the horror of Ginny's existence during those months in hell, the glimpses she had provided were enough to bring Harry to tears. For a while, he simply stood still, silent. Then with the heel of his palm, he rubbed off his tears, and jaw set in determination began to march off.

Hermione had seen that look enough times to know her friend planned to do something dangerous.

"What are you going to do, Harry?" she called after him.

Harry looked at her, steely glint in his eyes. "Draco wants the Order to return to the limelight with a bang. Well, how about a real bang? A _really _big bang."

* * *

Harry left by himself to meet with the Weasleys. Once they heard what he had found out about Ginny, they were equally determined to do their worst to Lucius Malfoy.

Harry was beginning to see Draco's point. In recent years, the Order of the Phoenix was presented as a terrorist organisation to British wizarding society and it was about time they embraced this new identity to terrorise some Death Eaters. If an attack on the factory were the only way to hurt Lucius right now, they would not just attack it, they would reduce the place to nothing but a hole in the ground.

Plans were made and executed that day—guided more by emotion than good sense as the Order would discover.


	40. Chapter 40

"What are you doing here?" asked Theo, guiding Gunnolf out of view of the other Ministry workers in the lobby. "You can't just show up here." In his nervous state, his voice took on a shrill tone. "What was Draco thinking?"

After his early morning firecall with Draco, Theo arrived to work same time as always. It was important he stick to his routine to keep the finger of suspicion pointed away from him during any investigation subsequent to his father's kidnapping. A werewolf from Draco's newly escaped pack showing up to see him at work the same day as the attacks on the Death Eaters would not look good for him.

"Draco doesn't know I'm here. He was no longer at Bleidd when I returned. I came to see you hoping you'd know where Draco's taken his pack," Gunnolf explained in a calm manner.

While his new alpha took their new pack to the Forbidden Forest hoping to find sanctuary there, Gunnolf, with permission from Hermione, went to see Theo, believing he would know where Draco had taken the pack. Hermione did not seem too eager about Draco but she was keen on finding her pups.

As a werewolf, Gunnolf was not allowed into the Ministry offices unless summoned by an official. Therefore, he had spent the morning in the Ministry lobby, hoping to catch Theo on his way in to work.

Theo shot him an incredulous look. "Are you telling me that by some absurd twist of fate you returned to Bleidd just after Draco reached Uganda?"

"Uganda?"

"Yes. He found out about Greyback holding Granger at the base there. He's taken the pack and gone to look for her. I told him he'd find you there—" Theo paused suddenly and frowned. "How did you manage to get back?"

Gunnolf hesitated.

"Holy fuck! I'm an idiot," said Theo, drawing his wand.

Theo gave Gunnolf no chance to process what was happening before he stunned and bound him. He made a show of levitating the werewolf through the halls of the Ministry and into the privacy of his office, to give the appearance of taking a creature in for questioning.

A stressed out Theo could not be certain the man he left bound in his office was not someone polyjuiced to look like Gunnolf. Under pressure to guarantee himself a spot within the Dark Lord's inner circle by the following day, he decided to deal with Gunnolf when he had the time to do so.

* * *

What was going on? After receiving the schedules of their targets, Potter had not contacted him or responded to any of his attempts to contact him during the night.

With no other options, Draco listened to the radio and scoured the newspapers Mipsy had fetched for him, but there was no mention of either, the attack on the factory or the kidnappings, attempted or otherwise, of top Ministry officials. As the day wore on, Draco grew more and more uneasy. What could possibly have gone wrong?

Tempted though he was, he resisted the urge to contact Theo. If the Order had succeeded in capturing Nott senior, the next few days would be critical ones for Theo. He could not afford to expose his co-conspirator by attempting to contact him.

Draco left Wilbur and Martin in Mipsy's care at the Lake Victoria house and returned to the pack's campsite. As much as he would have liked to spend his time with his sons, he needed to see to his pack's affairs and organise search teams to track his mate and his head beta.

* * *

Unknown to Draco, the Order had been rather busy. Instead of following his plans, they ambushed their targets at the same time the bombs were set to go off. By orchestrating a synchronised attack, they owned the element of surprise as the Death Eaters had no reason to be on the alert or alter their routine in any way. It was their hope that by pulling off multiple attacks at once everyone would believe the Order had far more people and resources than was actually true.

A mixture of low and high explosive devices strategically placed throughout the structure ensured the factory and everything inside it was reduced to rubble. Unfortunately, they had not thought to account for all the other potions and potion ingredients present at the factory. The blast had the unintended consequence of creating a smouldering fire that burned for days, leaving the area within a hundred metres lit with an unnatural glow.

Fearing his master's reaction should he discover his stock of Fero was destroyed, Lucius Malfoy, and everyone with a fondness for the Malfoy galleons, spend the first few hours after the blast containing news of the event. But the politics of their world was predicated on them gaining favour with the Dark Lord and lower ranked members could only hope to distinguish themselves by sabotaging their rivals. Being in power for years, with no fear of any external threats, fissures had gradually formed within the Death Eater organisation. Lucius Malfoy, in particular, had earned several enemies within the Death Eater ranks. Many resented that, on top of his enormous wealth and ancient lineage, Lucius held the distinction of being one of the top two Lords in the Dark Lord's army. So even though Lucius was successful in concealing news of the incident at his factory from the public, the Dark Lord heard about both, the blast as well as the cover-up.

The Death Eaters assembled at the Parkinsons' estate, where the Dark Lord was currently in residence. Nervousness at receiving their master's angry summons in the middle of the night turned to concern for their own welfare as certain things became known. The enemy they believed they had thoroughly crushed was active again. Sure, Harry Potter and some other members were still alive and free, but the Order was essentially toothless. In the past couple of years, the worst they had done was destroying some items treasured by the Dark Lord. Hence, news that the goody-goody Order had attacked Malfoy Potions, using the kind of excessive force even an insane sadist like Bellatrix Lestrange would shy away from, was shocking. But, that was not all.

Theosophus Nott, the other top-ranking Lord in their army, had failed to answer the summons. Noticing this, an angry Dark Lord tasked Corban Yaxley with locating Nott senior before realising that his Head of Magical Law Enforcement was also not in attendance. A count of their leadership followed by some investigation quickly revealed that the Carrow twins, Yaxley and Nott senior appeared to have mysteriously vanished that night.

Undoubtedly, the Order was involved. The question weighing on their minds was about the fate of the missing Death Eaters—were they merely taken as hostages or killed? Before the attack on Malfoy Potions, they would not have thought the Order capable of executing their prisoners. Now, they weren't so sure.

Lord Malfoy, with his silvery tongue, convinced the Dark Lord he only meant to deceive the wizarding public. The flames of resistance would be fanned once more if news leaked that, rather than being snuffed out as believed, the Order was alive and strong enough to destroy an important Death Eater property, he argued. Lucius claimed he intended all along to brief his master after doing some damage control. Thus, Lucius was able to save his neck that night but he could not entirely escape his master's wrath.

The Dark Lord was angry; angry with Harry Potter for still being alive, angry with the Order for still being active, and angry with his followers for growing complacent enough to be bested by the Order. Voldemort summoned Greyback, demanding Ginevra Weasley be brought before him. As the only high profile Order member in their custody, he would have to satisfy himself with torturing her. However, a pathetic-looking Greyback arrived empty-handed, with some half-baked tale about Draco having taken off with Ginny and half his pack two nights ago. Voldemort believed Greyback, but was furious about not being informed sooner. He had had enough of his followers concealing things from him.

Unable to punish the Order, Voldemort directed his fury at his own people, punishing every member in attendance. He denigrated them for turning into bloated officials the Order had successfully subverted multiple times in one night. Members of his inner circle were made to cast crucios on lower ranking members and then were subjected to the curse themselves by Voldemort.

There were Death Eaters like the Lestranges whose minds were far too damaged to truly suffer but the rest felt the brunt of the Cruciatus for days, suffering from shakes and spasms as their bodies tried to cope with the lingering effects of the curse. A crucio from Voldemort was unlike any other form of torture. Coming from the wand of one of the darkest wizards in history and one who really meant to torture the individuals he chose to curse, it was the worst kind of pain. Thomas Avery, who did not have the best constitution to start with, succumbed to the curse. Minutes after the Dark Lord was done with him, Avery dropped dead, blood dripping out of his ears.

As Draco would learn from Theo later, this became a turning point for the Death Eaters. Many among them were long tired of Voldemort's autocratic style of governance. What was the point of propping an evil tyrant if the quality of their life was worse off and they weren't offered any protections in exchange? An elite Pureblood like Draco Malfoy could be reduced to an inconsequential half-breed and butchered like an animal, and loyal supporters like Thomas Avery tortured to death!

Despite their growing discontentment, the majority of Death Eaters continued to support the Dark Lord, fearing there was no one powerful enough to take him down. However, some had recently discovered about horcruxes and that the man they were led to believe was immortal was not, since Harry Potter had already located and destroyed a number of his horcruxes. With the Order active once again, it gave the reluctant Death Eaters hope that things could change after all.

They recognised they would be better off in a world led by the Order. Even if they could not carry out their selfish plans for self-enrichment quite as blatantly as they had under the Dark Lord, their lives would certainly be safer and far more predictable. While their aversion to any form of risk meant they were unwilling to directly fight one of the darkest wizards to have ever lived, they could help by not obstructing the Order as they went about destroying the empire the Dark Lord had built himself.

* * *

Through a major part of the day and some of the night, members of the Order of the Phoenix bustled about as they planned and executed their attacks. An abandoned wizarding home served as the command centre for the day as Harry Potter, with help from Remus Lupin and Minerva Mcgonagall, coordinated the strikes.

The first mission of the day, infiltrating Malfoy Potions to leave the explosive devices built by Arthur, went without any hitches. Their next order of business, which was attacking the Death Eaters, went even better than expected. A sceptical Draco had thought the Order would only succeed in taking Nott hostage, and at most injure the other targets in their skirmishes. Instead, thanks to Ron's brilliance at strategising, they were able to use the intel from Draco to snatch up all four targets.

The hostages were brought to the command centre. Later, each prisoner would be taken to a different safe house where they would be isolated and deprived of food, water and light for as many days as was needed to soften them for their interrogation. In the past, Order members would have objected to such inhumane practices, but now they all understood the stakes involved.

Nott senior and Yaxley remained calm, believing that if the Order had not killed them yet, they weren't likely to, but the Carrow twins began to panic soon as they saw the faces of their fellow prisoners and the number of Weasleys present. Considering everything they had done to the Weasley girl, Amycus and Alecto feared what would happen to them should them should her family find out about any of it. Out of desperation, the twins were able to cast wandless spells to sever their bindings, which they followed with a poorly thought out attempt to escape by simply making a run for it.

It did not take much to recapture and subdue the duo, which resulted in separating them from the other two prisoners. Sometime during the chaos of the debriefings and the Carrows thwarted escape attempt, Molly Weasley arrived and before anyone even had a chance to understand what she meant to do, cast an Avada at the Carrows. The curse hit Amycus just before her sons tackled Molly to the ground.

Although Molly was not present at the meeting with Harry earlier in the day, she learnt about what the Death Eaters had done to Ginny from Arthur, who confided in his wife upon returning from the mission at Malfoy Potions. Molly had listened in silence as Arthur named the culprits and their worst offences against their daughter. He told her about the attacks the Order was going to carry out that night, as well as the names of their intended targets. Molly heard it all, unresponsive at the time but waiting for the right moment to act.

Everyone was shocked by Molly's actions. Whatever Amycus' crimes, he was unarmed and their hostage at the time. Molly had committed cold, calculated murder in full view of other Order members.

George and Fred needed to physically restrain their mother to get her to stop. They hugged her, tears in their eyes as they asked in disbelief, "Why, mum? Why?"

Molly's answer, delivered in a dull monotone, was simple: "They hurt my baby."

She did not cry or become upset; she did not feel her soul fracture from casting the Unforgivable. All Molly felt was deep regret for failing to kill Alecto as well.

* * *

Overall, the Order considered the day a success. They had destroyed the potions factory, disrupting the supply of Fero and announcing to the wizarding world that the resistance was thriving. They also had three high-ranking Death Eaters they could use to go after the rest of Voldemort's supporters.

The Dark Lord and his most loyal supporters took comfort in the thought that the day was not as bad as it could have been since Lucius had ensured the wizarding world would not hear of the Order's exploits. The rest of the Death Eaters were pleased that the Order was active again as it could possibly lead to the end of Voldemort's reign of terror.

Meanwhile, Draco, unable to get in touch with anyone, and finding nothing in the papers thought no news was probably good news.

However, there was something critical they had all overlooked. No one thought to check the Muggle news reports of the attack on Malfoy Potions.

...

**_(BBC)—Fire-fighters continued on Tuesday to battle a fire caused by a massive explosion at Coleshill Street, Birmingham._**

_Two people were critically injured in Monday night's explosion. Five others are being treated for various burn injuries at Birmingham City Hospital. Birmingham Mayor, John Hood confirmed that Emergency services are at the scene working to control the fire and provide medical aid to the injured. As a safety measure, all residents within a kilometre of the site were evacuated from their homes. _

_So far, rescue workers have found no bodies and there is no information on the number of people present at the location at the time of the explosion. Fire-fighters continue to struggle to put out the fires-_

...

**_(The Sun)—World War 3 is here!_**

_It sounded like the end of the world, and looked a lot like it too. About 10pm on the 2nd of August, there were a series of explosions on Coleshill Street, Birmingham, that were heard 10 kilometres away. The smoke and flames prompted the evacuation of more than 200 workers within a 5-kilometre radius of the site, which was in an industrial area near Arsenia steelworks._

_Not since the Luftwaffe bombed the city during the blitz has Birmingham seen this level of destruction. Barely a month after the London bombings, where a series of coordinated terrorist suicide attacks targeted commuters travelling on the city's public transport system, the explosion that shook Birgmingham last night, has people wondering if this isn't a clear declaration of war despite PM Blair and his government's empty assurances-_

...

**_(CNN)—A large cloud that appeared over Birmingham in satellite images was not the result of a nuclear explosion, according to UK government officials._**

_Local news agencies within the UK reported a huge explosion that shook Coleshill Street Monday, producing a mushroom cloud nearly half a mile wide. Early reports claimed the smoke cloud could be the result of a forest fire while others believed it to be a nuclear explosion; however, government officials have denied these claims. Downing Street Press Spokesman, John Campbell, stated that the explosion was, '-nothing, but a leak in a chemicals factory due to their failure to meet safety regulations.'_

_According to data gathered by Nuclear Threat Initiative (NTI), the level of radiation found at the site in the aftermath of the explosion indicate the undeniable presence of radioactive materials, which has the international community questioning if the UK government was secretly conducting a uranium enrichment program at the site. This theory has been gaining support over the week as satellite images of the area from days before the blast show nothing but a vacant lot at the site-_

* * *

AN: Just like in the real world, the news articles aren't an entirely accurate description of what happened- between the three articles you're meant to get a sense of how the Muggle community viewed the event. Also, (not that it matters) the London bombings referenced were the ones that took place on the 7th of July 2005.

Stats: (readers ignore, this is just a marker for my ref) 39 chps, 43 favs, 27 reviews.


	41. Chapter 41

Hermione stayed with her pack while Harry left to meet with other members of the Order. She could not decide how she felt about Draco, Harry and Ron working together, but they were all capable men who seemed to have matters in hand, the same could not be said of her pack. She needed to seek out Magorian and obtain his blessings, though the centaurs were not likely to let them stay in the Forbidden Forest considering they had refused the Order.

The centaurs made her wait until nightfall before giving her an audience with Magorian. The leader of the centaurs listened in silence, his face a blank unreadable mask, as Hermione repeated what she said to his representatives that morning. If Hermione had to guess, things weren't looking too favourable for her pack.

"Our enemy is strong, and neither one of us is capable of defeating them on our own, but if we worked together, if everyone affected by the Death Eaters came together to form an alliance, _together_ we may stand a chance," she said in summation.

Hermione felt like a bug being scrutinised by a far more superior being as Magorian only stared at her for a while before he spoke.

"We spared your life the last time you encroached on our lands... or so I thought. But, it was your fate to live so we may one day fight in your army."

Then Magorian did something that shocked Hermione as well as his herd. He bowed his head in a show of respect.

"We will not follow the Order, or the Death Eaters, but we will stand with the Promised One."

There it was again. It's what Gunnolf had called her and Oskar had believed her to be. Sure, she was obviously different from the other werewolves, but could she really be "...the Promised One?"

"Yes. While your friend is destined to be the downfall of the Dark Lord, it is you who will ensure we never return to such times again. You have your own path to follow now."

"What do you mean?" asked Hermione, struggling to keep her frustration in check. She never understood why the centaurs, and just about anyone who practiced divination, felt the need to speak in riddles when they could save everyone a lot of unnecessary grief by stating in simple terms what they had to say.

Before her human could begin to lecture the centaurs on the subject of effective communication, the she-wolf took over.

"Speak plainly," she ordered Magorian, who shocked them once again by answering instead of punishing Hermione for her insolence.

"You cannot follow the Chosen One. He has his path and you have your own destiny to fulfil," said Magorian. "Your pack is free to stay in our forest," he added before dismissing her.

* * *

Hermione's reunion with the Order did not take place until the following day. Harry returned to the Forbidden Forest sometime in the early hours of the morning looking exhausted but pleased. He took Hermione to the command centre, where some of the Order members had stuck around when they heard news of Hermione's return. As a security measure, they now only got together when called for an assignment so she would only see those involved in the night's missions.

One by one, Hermione met with the handful of Order members present before they had to return to their respective safe houses. She was disappointed the Weasley family were not there, in particular Arthur and Molly who had acted as her surrogate parents in the wizarding world.

Overall, even though it was an emotional reunion, it was not what she expected it to be. Everything was different now. She felt out of place with the Order—not because _she_ was different and certainly not because home now meant Draco and their sons. No, that could not be it, most certainly not... It had to be Magorian's cryptic revelation that was making her feel out of sorts.

Whatever did Magorian mean when he said she had her own path to follow—was she not supposed to follow Harry anymore? Did it apply to the Order as well? How was _she_ meant to stop another dark wizard from ever rising to power again—is that even what he meant when he said she would ensure they would never return to such times again? She would have liked to ask Magorian these questions, except he and his herd had galloped away soon after. Seriously, what was even the point of a prophecy if it offered no clear answers on what one was meant to do!

A little lost in her own thoughts Hermione was startled to find herself being crushed against a broad chest.

"Bloody hell, Hermione," was all he could get out, choked with emotion.

_Ron._

Hermione relaxed as soon as she knew who it was. Ron was not good at expressing his emotions, not with words anyway, but the man always knew just what kind of hug any situation demanded. Hermione could not stop the tears from flowing as she found herself once again in Ron's caring embrace. She wrapped her arms around his torso, squeezing back.

Gods, she could not remember the last time they were together like this. Things had become tense between them ever since he began to date Padma. She grew resentful that he had moved on while she remained hung up on him. As a result, she had been a terrible friend to him and let their friendship suffer due to her unrequited feelings. It was liberating to be able to hug Ron without it awakening a hope for their relationship to turn into something more.

Harry stood watching them, teary-eyed, from a couple of feet away. Ron held one arm open and beckoned to him, "Get in here, mate. What're you waiting for, a personal invitation?"

Harry did not need to be told twice. Soon Hermione was sandwiched between her two best friends and just like that, the Golden Trio was back together again.

Ron could not stay for long, as he needed to join his family; Harry later told her about Molly's actions earlier that night. However, in the short time he was there a couple of things became clear to Hermione: her friendship with Harry and Ron was strong enough to survive anything life would throw her away and, she was no longer in love with Ron.

"Hermione?"

She looked up at Harry; everyone else had left so it was just the two of them now. He came and sat beside her on the bottom step of the staircase. The sombre expression on his face told her it was time for that discussion they had put off so far.

"From what Ginny and Draco have told me, I have an idea of what you've been through, Hermione," Harry began without any preamble. "Anything you may have done—anything you feel you had to do to survive—you know I won't judge you. I want to help... I understand you may not be ready to talk about what happened, I want you to know that I'll wait—however long it takes—I'll wait till you're ready to tell me—"

Hermione was touched by her friend's perceptiveness. He was right, she was not ready to relive the last couple of months of her life by recounting them just yet.

"—But there is one thing I need to know right now—just so I know how to deal with him. I need to know where you stand with Draco."

"What do you mean?"

"He clearly cares about you—I don't understand it ... not entirely sure if I could understand even if you explained it to me, but, I don't doubt that he cares about you. I need to know if this _thing _was just your way of coping—I guess I'm asking if you feel—"

Harry appeared to struggle with phrasing what he needed to ask before finally blurting, "How do you feel about Draco, Hermione?"

How did she feel about Draco?

Hermione thought of the months spent at Bleidd. She remembered the sick feeling of discovering her childhood bully was the wolf who had raped her; remembered how scary and devastating it was to learn that she was pregnant. After Bleidd, she remembered the crushing abandonment she felt as she waited for Draco to act on the mate-bond and rescue her. The she-wolf would not let her forget those feelings, just as she would not let her forget who Draco was—the boy who had called her a Mudblood... the cruel boy who started a war because he wanted her kind dead... the horrible boy who had tried to kill Harry, kill Ron, kill Professor Dumbledore...

"I'm in love with him," she replied in a calm and steady voice, remembering not just the boy from Hogwarts but also the man she had gotten to know at Bleidd.

"But, I don't know if I should be," she added after a brief pause.

Brow furrowed, Harry looked at her in obvious confusion.

"I'm in love with him," she repeated, ignoring the angry snarls of her wolf and refusing to give her control, "but I've had so little control over my own body for so long—" Hermione hugged her knees and spoke in a voice barely above a whisper. "I don't know if I can trust my own feelings anymore. I want to be with Draco, and Wilbur and Martin—Goodness, Harry, I have two sons now! And even though I never planned to become a mother, it has been the most—"

Hermione tried to put into words what being a mother was like, but failed.

An arm wrapped around her shoulder and drew her close.

"It's been the most _something_," she said, resting her head on her friend's shoulder. There was no single word to describe what motherhood had been like. "I never thought I would love them as much as I do. I thought it would be easy to leave them. I thought I was doing what was best for them—I was wrong. I miss them, all three of them. They're my family, Harry. Sure, you and Ron are my family too, but my place is with—" And suddenly Magorian's words made sense.

She had left her sons at Bleidd, because she believed their rightful place was with their father and hers with Harry and the Order. She had been wrong about it all; she had her own path to follow.

"You want to go back to him?"

She nodded against his shoulder, teary eyed.

A few minutes of thoughtful silence passed before Harry spoke.

"Convenient of you to give birth to twins—"

She gave him a blank stare.

"This way," he went on to explain, "Ron and I won't need to fight over who gets to be godfather."

Her jaw dropped at the unexpected response.

"Hermione, if the last few years have taught us anything, it is to seize any chance at finding happiness while we can. I've always trusted your judgement and if you want to be with Draco, you should."

"You're okay with this?" asked Hermione, bewildered by Harry's calm acceptance of it all.

"Like I said, he seems to genuinely care about you, I doubt he'd be willing to help us otherwise—he may be changed but he's essentially the same bloke who sees to his own interests first. And I can't hold any old grudges after he returned Ginny to us—I'll _always_ owe him for that," said Harry, his eyes reflecting the gratitude he felt.

"Ginny told us that you and Draco are mates, that—" Harry paused suddenly, staring at her in wide-eyed bewilderment.

"What?" she snapped at him.

"Okay, I wasn't going to mention this, but why do you go from sniffing me to snarling at me?"

"What! I do no such thing," she protested.

"Umm... yes, you do," insisted Harry, looking at her sideways as if questioning her sanity. "You keep doing it. The sniffing, though strange, is harmless I suppose, but the snarling—what's that about?"

Hermione squeezed her eyes shut in embarrassment; apparently, she had not kept her wolf in check quite as much as she believed she had.

"It's my damn wolf," she replied, mouth drawn into a tight line.

Harry's response was a raise of the eyebrow almost as impressive as Draco's. It made her chuckle.

"I'm a werewolf, Harry," she confessed reluctantly, not because she was ashamed to be a werewolf. She had avoided the topic of her lycanthropy so far because she did not want to talk about how she came to be one.

She gave Harry no time to ask any of the questions he would naturally have after hearing her declaration. "My wolf doesn't like the thought of me returning to Draco," she explained. "She wants me to find a different mate. She's been sniffing you because she thinks you're hot and would be a good mate."

This time, both eyebrows shot up.

"Uh, Hermione... I'm flattered, obviously, but... this is very confusing. _Very_," he said blushing. "I'm not sure what to make of—By Merlin, Hermione, I've never been much better than Ron when it comes to figuring girls out. Are you saying you were coming on to me?" asked a wary-looking Harry, leaning away from her.

"No, you prat"—she delivered a swift slap to his knee—"I've just got this... _entity _inside me with a mind of her own."

Harry looked like he was beginning to question her judgement.

"I realise how mental it makes me sound, but I don't know how else to explain it. There are times my wolf just feels like an alien being, not an extension of myself," she told him.

"Why is that?"

Hermione shrugged. "Not sure. This is all still fairly new... I probably need time to learn to control my wolf."

"You said your wolf isn't happy about returning to Draco?"

She nodded.

"Yet _you_ definitely want to?"

She nodded again.

"But the wolf is in actual fact you, right?" asked Harry.

When she responded with yet another nod he began to tug on his hair the way he did when he was trying really hard to solve a mystery.

"So why does your wolf not want to return to Draco?"

Hermione let out a sigh. There was no way to make Harry understand without telling him some of the things she did not wish to talk about.

Without going into too many details, Hermione told Harry about the days she spent as Fenrir's prisoner in Uganda waiting for her mate to show up. She told him about Draco's failure to protect their sons, who Fenrir used to force her compliance. She touched upon the repeated rapes that were meant to destroy her bond with Draco, and how she felt when he still did not show up.

Harry listened to why her wolf was unwilling to forgive Draco. There was kindness in his eyes and not even a hint of confrontation in his tone when he eventually spoke. "Hermione, I can understand your anger over being abandoned—though I cannot understand how Draco was meant to find you when he didn't even know you were taken captive, let alone where you were held."

"My wolf is adamant that my true mate would have sensed my distress and found me; that he didn't, means either there was never any bond ...or he's just an unworthy mate."

"I can't say anything about his worthiness as a _mate_—I don't think I even fully understand what it means to be a mate in the sense you're using the word—but, when I spoke with Draco I got the feeling he'd do anything to find you. He reached out to the Order, just to get some news on your whereabouts and left for Uganda once he heard you were there."

"I know. I also know he was tortured by the Death Eaters during the last revel so he would have been a little preoccupied."

Hermione's tone received a shake of Harry's head.

"That was beyond torture, Hermione... even by Death Eater revel standards it was a new low. Draco was meant to die that night." Harry shared with her the scared whispers they had heard of what had transpired during that night.

Hermione was horrified to hear what Draco had lived through...

...but her wolf was unrelenting. _So he's weak, just a _weak _and unworthy mate._

"What do you plan to do, Hermione?" asked Harry. When she did not respond, he continued. "You didn't come here seeking the Order—us crossing paths, was a mere coincidence—and your wolf doesn't want to go back to Draco. What are you going to do now? Return to Uganda...? Stay with the Order...?"

Hermione remained silent; she had yet to decide what to do next.

"Draco's been trying to contact me. I've ignored him so far because I needed to know where you stood. Should I at least let him know you're here now?"

Hermione shook her head. Until she gained complete control over her wolf, there were two men she needed to avoid: her mate and her sire.

* * *

Over the course of the next few days, everyone was waiting for something or the other.

Hermione worried about Gunnolf. What had happened to her beta? Knowing he went to visit his contact at the Ministry, sending a patronus was not an option; all she could do was wait to hear from him.

Draco waited to hear from Harry or Theo about what had happened and if they had carried out the mission at all. He also waited for his tracking teams to return with a trace on either Hermione or Gunnol but on all fronts, there was no news.

The Weasley men waited for Ginny's nerves to settle so they could breathe around her without giving her a fright. They waited for Molly to acknowledge the line she had crossed when she cast an Avada, but the matriarch was only sorry for not killing both of her daughter's tormentors.

Harry and the rest of the Order waited eagerly for the wizarding world to talk about the revival of the resistance. They listened to the radio and searched the papers for news of their exploits, but there was no mention anywhere. No one was talking about the kidnapped Death Eaters, or the attack on Malfoy Potions, or the resulting fallout from losing over a year's supply of Fero. Instead of the fear and panic they had anticipated, it was business as usual.

Meanwhile, the Death Eaters waited for the Order's next move, looking over their shoulder, expecting an attack that never came. They were rattled. Between worrying about an ambushed from the Order and worrying about pleasing their insane master, the Death Eaters had not known a more stressful time in their life.

The three captured Death Eaters waited—to be interrogated by the Order or rescued by their fellow Death Eaters. Each was held separately, locked up alone in their personal dank cell, with no light, food or water, and forced to sleep in their own filth within the cramped space. There was no one to talk to and nothing to do, except wait. They cursed the Order for their cruelty—forgetting how they had condemned many Halfbloods and Muggleborns to far worse—and waited, hoping the next moment would end the endless nothingness, but no one came for them.

Theo Nott was the only one who made any notable progress that week. He used his contacts and money to ensure he was the one to inform the Dark Lord of Lucius Malfoy's treachery. It would earn him a powerful enemy in Lucius in the future, for now it earned him the Dark Lord's favour. Theo shone for a second time that night when news of his father's kidnapping came to light. In a grand gesture, he led the charge on every known Order location and even though the raids yielded no results, except for the destruction of a few abandoned properties, the Dark Lord and senior Death Eaters liked that Theo was finally taking a more active role in their organisation. He cemented his reputation when he procured a potions factory, which would solely produce Fero to replace their destroyed stock in a month's time. Within three days, Theodore Nott went from being one of the lowest ranking Death Eaters to becoming a part of the Dark Lord's inner circle.

Busy pulling strings and calling in favours to aid his rise to the top, Theo had forgotten about Gunnolf until the Dark Lord called for Greyback. He watched Greyback complain about Draco and then be punished for losing his prisoner. The Dark Lord ordered Lucius to bring back Ginny Weasley and threatened Greyback with dire consequences if he failed to bring Draco to heel himself.

It was critical for Theo to stay close to the inner circle, he could not leave Britain now, but he also needed to monitor Lucius and Greyback. That is when he remembered leaving Gunnolf, or someone pretending to be him, bound in his office.

Soon as the Dark Lord concluded his torture session and dismissed his followers, Theo informed Greyback he had one of his men in custody. He led him to Gunnolf, gambling on the slim chance that Greyback had yet to discover where Gunnolf's loyalties lay. If the bound man was in fact Gunnolf and if Theo was wrong, Greyback would kill Gunnolf for being a part of Draco's group. Since they were at the Ministry, Theo was confident he could prevent Mr. Beefcake's death; it was still a relief when Greyback's reaction to a trussed-up Gunnolf was to rage at him for restraining his top man.

Gunnolf did not immediately follow what was going on, but Theo, crafty wizard that he was, dropped enough clues during his shouting match with Fenrir, he understood Theo wanted him to spy on Fenrir for him. If Fenrir had the support of the Death Eaters, everyone with Draco, including the pups, was in danger. They would need someone on the inside to stay ahead of their enemy. So even though his alpha was waiting for him in the Forbidden Forest and he had no desire to follow Fenrir anymore, Gunnolf returned with him to Bleidd.

* * *

During the days following the explosion on Coleshill Street, while things remained quiet in the wizarding world, the same could not be said of the Muggle one. Conspiracy theories ran wild over the true cause of the incident.

The current Muggle Prime Minister had no reason to suspect wizards were responsible for the explosion in Birmingham even though his predecessor had told him about the existence of the magical world. Cooperation between the Ministry and the Muggle world had ceased once the Death Eaters gained control, so the Muggle PM never received a visit from the Minister of Magic or saw any evidence to make him think the outgoing PM's revelation was anything but a poor attempt to take the piss out of his successor.

With the entire Muggle world talking about the incident and all the speculations floating about, it was not long before the MACUSA caught wind of the mystery. Being strictly against exposing their world to the No-Majs, the MACUSA sent their agents to fix the breach before notifying the ICW about the incident as well as the British Ministry of Magic's failure to deal with their own mess. The ICW was contemplating what action they ought to take against the Death Eater-controlled government of wizarding Britain for their breach of the International Statute of Wizarding Secrecy when the terrorist group known as the Order of the Phoenix claimed responsibility for the attack.


	42. Chapter 42

Narcissa Malfoy stared at the bracelet on her wrist. Gifted by Lucius on their wedding day, the goblin-made, princess-cut diamond and emerald eternity bracelet wasn't the most extravagant piece of jewellery she owned, yet it was very dear to her and something she rarely took off. Narcissa absentmindedly fiddled with the clasp as she admired the intricate beauty of the bracelet that was a token of Lucius' love and commitment to her.

Lucius himself lay asleep on their bed a few feet away from where Narcissa stood. It was rare to see her husband sleep so peacefully anymore, not without the help of a sleep aid anyway, she thought just before she noticed the empty vial on the bedside table. How things had changed in the last few years, her life gone from being almost perfect to a perfect nightmare she could not awaken from however hard she tried. Once at the pinnacle of their society, the Malfoys were both feared and revered—that much had probably not changed, except she no longer felt like she was at the top of anything. How could she, after all the indignities heaped upon her family by the Dark Lord?

The biggest change was in her husband's personality. Lucius Malfoy had always been the sort of man people feared more than adored, but Narcissa had fallen in love with him all the same. Her husband was an intelligent man who had dedicated himself to growing his family's wealth and power. He loved his family and was completed devoted to them. Much like his own father, Lucius was a harsh taskmaster, especially when Draco failed his expectations, but he did not love their son any lesser than she did. And when it came to Narcissa, there was nothing Lucius would not do for the love of his life. However, the Lucius Malfoy asleep on their bed was not the proud and powerful wizard she had enjoyed being married to until Lord Voldemort returned and cast his dark shadow on their lives.

The changes in her husband had been so gradual Narcissa had seen no cause for concern until too late. These days Lucius was little more than the Dark Lord's puppet; he would deny his master nothing, including disowning his heir and throwing him to the wolves. Narcissa's heart had broken that terrible night, seeing her husband watch in silent impotence as their precious son was condemned to the life of a half-breed by that Halfblood usurper, Tom Riddle. However, Narcissa was not the kind of witch to sit idly by while her son's birthright was stolen.

Since Lucius was duty-bound to provide his family with an heir, so long as he did not produce any other children, he would be forced to accept Draco as his heir again someday. With that outcome in mind, Narcissa had secretly fed Lucius contraceptives to ensure he could not sire any other children. Therefore, news of Ginny Weasley's pregnancy came as a complete shock.

Narcissa was in a rage when she realised all her careful planning had been foiled; there was no way for her to let on that the baby could not belong to Lucius without confessing to her own deception. She suspected the baby's father had to be either Rabastan or Rodolphus. Both men were frequent visitors to Malfoy Manor and—thanks to some of Bella's mad rants—she knew the brothers had developed a fancy for the young Pureblood beauty after the Godric's Hollow revel.

Thinking only of securing her son's future, Narcissa had insisted Lucius relocate the pregnant witch to Chateau Lestrange; given how obsessed the Lestrange men were with the redhead, she hoped it would not take too long for Ginny Weasley to miscarry. However, Narcissa discovered that nothing went the way she hoped anymore, and the Weasley girl continued to pose a threat to her son's future.

Lucius had returned home a few hours ago suffering from convulsions, the after-effects of taking yet another Crucio from his master. The Dark Lord was unhappy that, three days later, Lucius had made no progress in locating the witch carrying his heir. According to Draco's note, the Weasley girl lost the child and was back with the Order; Lucius' mission was entirely pointless. Still, Narcissa did not pity her husband's situation; instead, she worried about what the Death Eaters may do to her son once they discovered the girl was gone.

Narcissa was willing to do anything for her son, so great was her love for him. It did not matter to her that he was no longer a Pureblood—Draco's new status, as well as the existence of his half-breed sons, were things she chose not to acknowledge. As far as Narcissa was concerned, this was all just a terrible phase of their lives, one they could move past once the Dark Lord fell. Narcissa was confident that free from his master's influence, Lucius would return to being his former self. Subsequently, Draco's status as the heir would be restored; he would find a respectable Pureblood witch, preferably one of the Sacred Twenty-Eight; and then finally, provide her with the grandchildren she longed for.

Narcissa was proud of Draco for actively working to overthrow the Dark Lord's rule, unlike so many Death Eater kids and his own father. Draco was doing his part to end the nightmare; she needed to do hers by helping him.

Narcissa stepped outside the room; out of view of the hallway portraits, she called for Mipsy. In his last note, Draco had requested for a personal item of hers; he wished to spell it with the protean charm so they could communicate directly without raising suspicions or risking discovery. For the first time in years, Narcissa unclasped the bracelet from her wrist and handed it to the elf.

* * *

Hermione decided to remain in the Forbidden Forest for the time being. Her pack could rest and properly recover from their recent injuries while she mastered control of her wolf. Hermione was also waiting for Gunnolf to return. Through the pack bond she knew her beta was alive and not in distress; she imagined whatever was keeping Gunnolf away had to be of vital importance to the pack.

Hermione also resumed her research on the horcruxes; it was the best way she could be of use to the Order right now. All of her previous findings indicated that there were definitely two more hotcruxes left, one of which was Voldemort's pet snake, Nagini, but they still had no clue for the final horcrux.

Harry did not seem to care about the final horcrux; he was more focused on finding ways to get close enough to kill Nagini and progress to their final confrontation with Voldemort. There was nothing odd about Harry's outward behaviour, but anytime the horcruxes were discussed, his heart rate increased like a person engaging in some form of deception. Knowing Harry, if he was being secretive it had to involve something that would endanger his life. Hermione resolved to keep a close eye on her friend.

"This is ridiculous," declared Hermione, looking at copies of the Daily Prophet as well as some other publications of prominence in front of her. It was the third day in a row with no news of the attack.

"Look at this one—" She angrily jabbed the offending article with her finger. "Nearly half a page dedicated to talking about Bertha Taylor's bold choice to wear white robes to last month's Ministry gala. Who on earth is Bertha Taylor and why would anyone care two knuts about her choice of robes?" asked Hermione, her voice turning shrill with her rising indignation.

"That is bold... everyone knows 'Ministry gala' is just code for Death Eater revel," said Harry, attempting to placate his friend.

Hermione continued as if Harry had not spoken at all. "Why is anyone talking about so-called fashion crimes when there are real atrocities taking place at these gatherings? And this"—she pointed at another article—"blithering idiot has written an entire page complaining about the Department of Magical Games and Sports for _committing a grave offence against the wizarding public of Great Britain by suspending the Seeker of the Wigtown Wanderers from playing in the upcoming match of the League Cup!_"

"That is a travesty; he was their only hope—"

"Argh!" Hermione screeched in frustration cutting off Harry. "No one's talking about what is actually going on."

"This isn't new, Hermione," replied Harry dully. "They own the news agencies, so they control what gets reported."

"Yes, but how will people know what's going on if the news won't report it!"

"How could they _not_ know? The Death Eaters are hardly discreet about their crimes," countered Harry. "The general public may not want to _do _anything about it but they know," he said reassuringly.

Hermione shook her head.

"No, Harry. People have forgotten—or they've bought into the lies," said Hermione, recalling some of the conversations she had overheard at Bleidd as well as her discussion with Babjide.

It seemed a good time for it, so Hermione shared with Harry what she had learnt from her talks with the Supreme Mugwump of the ICW. Of course, she left out the part about how or why she had ended up meeting such an influential wizard, but Harry was too stunned by the revelations to notice the missing details.

"How can this be?—How can anyone be so _blind_?" he asked no one in particular. "They've killed, no, _slaughtered_, dozens of Muggleborns that we know of—and who knows how many Halfbloods are serving as slaves in Death Eater households across Britain... Surely, news of this—" Harry snapped his mouth shut seeing Hermione shake her head.

"They don't know."

"They don't know," repeated Harry. He pressed his forehead to the wall and leaned into it for support. "I thought no one was helping us because they had their own problems... But you're saying they don't know...?"

Hermione could understand what Harry was feeling in that moment. They had all believed the Death Eater propaganda of their successes overseas; they were convinced magical beings everywhere were fighting for their survival, same as them. It was primarily why the Order had decided against taking the risk of leaving Britain and seeking help from outside.

"Yes. The Death Eaters only have control of Britain; everyone else succeeded in beating them off... They don't even suspect the Death Eaters to be responsible for the attacks on their nations."

Hermione told Harry everything she had found out about the Death Eater operations overseas. As she spoke, Harry turned around and stood straight, his eyes slowly began to light up.

"This is good news then," he claimed excitedly. "We just need to get word out of what Riddle and his followers have been up to then we can get the international community to come support us in our fight!"

Isn't that just what Babjide asked her to do—get the ICW evidence of what was happening in Britain?

Hermione shook her head. While she had no reason to doubt Babjide's sincerity, in her experience bureaucrats in the wizarding world rarely acted until too late.

"We've got to spread our own propaganda... The wizarding public in Britain has been lulled into believing that the world as we knew it has not ended. The Death Eaters have been cleverly whitewashing their crimes for years so instead of feeling outraged, the public is now able to carry on with their lives pretending like it's normal for non-Purebloods and for those who oppose Riddle to get tortured, raped and killed—The public needs to be reminded this is not normal," said Hermione.

"I see what you mean... We need to highlight everything wrong with the current situation so people feel outraged by what is happening because then, maybe, they will join us in the fight."

Hermione nodded enthusiastically. "Yes, and we need to let them know that the Order's still alive _and_ kicking butts," she added. "People need to know they have a real choice—support us or continue to do nothing, in which case they're just as culpable because they're passively supporting this evil regime. This is a war, and it is time for people to pick a clear side... No more sitting on the sidelines."

"How do we do this—how do we tell our side of the story?" asked Harry.

It was not as if they had not known the importance of publicising the misdeeds of Voldemort and his followers before... Luna Lovegood, in her own peculiar manner, had repeatedly warned them of the potential danger of letting the Death Eaters take complete and unchecked control of the narrative; but years ago, the Order had decided they could only afford to focus what little resources they had on hunting for Voldemort's horcruxes. The Order thus succeeded in destroying all but two of the horcruxes, however this was done at the cost of being labelled as terrorists and having their struggle forgotten by society.

Hermione could not come up with a suitable answer herself but she could think of a witch who may have an idea or three.

"Let's talk to Luna," she told Harry.

* * *

Harry owled Luna and arranged for them to meet the same day in a busy Muggle zoo in Cheshire. It was soon evident they had made the right choice in contacting Luna; the witch had more than a few ideas. One idea looked particularly promising, so they decided to call for a meeting with other Order members to plan their mission properly.

It was a productive meeting, but one that left Hermione feeling unsettled; Luna kept smiling at her in that odd way of hers as if she knew something no one else did. It did not help that the animals of the zoo behaved strangely anytime Hermione got too close to their enclosures; Harry may not have noticed their unusual reactions but someone like Luna, who studied creatures as a hobby, did not miss a thing.

"I'm so glad you called for me, Hermione," Luna said just as they were about to part ways.

"It was good to see you too, Luna," said Hermione with genuine affection for the younger witch. Though Luna's eccentricity took some getting used to, Hermione appreciated how considerate, intelligent and absolutely dedicated the witch could be.

"Motherhood suits you, Hermione—but then again you did have children with your mate. You were fortunate to find your mate, even if it was in such terrible circumstances—"

Turned out most of the Order were aware of certain aspects of Hermione's life at Bleidd thanks to the information Ginny had shared when she first returned. Thankfully, Harry had kept a lid on what had happened to Hermione afterwards.

"—I don't think people realise how much of what we know about werewolves is false ... Father used to say they can be very protective of their mates ... But you could not have known that; it must have been quite scary for you at first, especially when you found out you were pregnant," Luna stated in her typical dreamy tone.

Unsure of how to respond Hermione remained silent.

"I hope you will let me paint you some time before you leave—I'm trying to be more diligent when it comes to documenting my findings."

Luna already had portraits of all her friends in the Order, including Hermione; she could only be referring to Hermione's wolf. And Luna could not have known about her current status unless Harry said something.

Hermione looked at Harry and let loose a growl before she remembered where they were.

Harry—who was too busy staring longingly at the families visiting the zoo—failed to see the angry looks his friend was giving him; Luna did not.

"I can see why Remus is afraid of you," uttered Luna when she was done laughing.

The sound of Luna's tinkling laughter had drawn Harry's attention back to his friends. "What! Remus isn't afraid of Hermione," he said.

"Did Remus tell you that?" asked Hermione at the same time.

Luna flashed Harry a smile—the kind used by a patronising adult when dealing with a dim-witted child—before she turned to answer Hermione.

"Tonks mentioned it—I visit others sometimes, even though I know we're not supposed. I just get so lonely sometimes," she said smiling at both her friends. "Tonks thought Remus was keeping a respectful distance and avoiding eye contact because he was worried you may react the way Ginny did when they tried to approach her... I suspected there was more to his submissive behaviour."

Tonks and Remus were among the few Order members Hermione had met the night the Order attacked the Death Eaters. The she-wolf had noted the presence of another werewolf in the room, but beyond that took no further interest in the omega who carried the stink of fear on him. It never occurred to Hermione that Remus was afraid of _her_.

Harry looked like he was trying to make sense of what Luna was saying. Before he asked any questions, Hermione attempted to steer the conversation away from herself.

"There was something I wanted to hear your thoughts on," Hermione said to Luna. "Is there anyone you suspect to be the one who set up Ginny to get captured?"

She already knew from Harry that the Order's investigation yielded no clear suspects and without veritaserum, they would only learn the truth if the person responsible volunteered a confession.

"No, but I believe we will know something soon enough," Luna mentioned with a distant look in her eyes.

This time, Hermione was certain the blonde knew something they did not. "Yes...?" she prompted, hoping Luna would share what she knew.

"Yes," returned Luna and resumed to stare blankly at some point behind Hermione.

Hermione had known Luna long enough to know when to give up.

They found a spot suitable for disapparition. Just before she left her friends, Luna had one more thing to say.

"You've always been a quick learner, Hermione. I am hopeful you will learn to fully embrace your true nature and stop fighting it."

* * *

Draco's pack was adjusting well enough with their temporary living arrangements. Many of them still needed to heal after the big fight, but overall the pack's morale was better than it had been in a long while. It also helped that, despite their campsite being large enough to have caught the attention of the locals, so far no one had tried to cause any trouble over a pack of werewolves squatting on their land.

The tracking teams had not come across Gunnolf's scent but they did find Hermione's in a cave within the forest on the Mountains of the Moon. It was unclear how long ago, but the trackers believed Hermione had made the cave her dwelling at some point.

There was still no news on what was happening in Britain. Desperate for information Draco finally sent Mipsy to Pansy, who did not have a lot to say—Theo's father was missing and Theo's stock with the Dark Lord had improved dramatically. Pansy learnt these things from her father since Theo was too busy to even come home.

Draco had finally resigned himself to the fact that he was going to be in the dark until he heard from Theo or Potter, when Mipsy appeared before him with his mother's bracelet in hand.

* * *

Ron and Luna may not have been too fond of each other, but they undoubtedly made a good team. Between Ron's street smarts and Luna's creative thinking, they were able to devise a plan that would allow them to hijack the airwaves and broadcast over the Wizarding Wireless Network—that was Luna's big idea, host a pirate radio program to get their message out to anyone who may be listening.

To ensure their transmission signal was strong enough to be picked up by the wireless in neighbouring countries as well, they needed to hack into the WWN's signal tower. Luckily for the Order, the WWN still operated out of Hogsmeade Village, a place they were all well acquainted with. While there had been a strong presence of Death Eaters in the early years of Voldemort's reign, these days only a few Black Cloaks manned a solitary watch-post in the all-wizard village.

Breaking into the radio station and placing the charm on the signal tower that would give them access to the airwaves wasn't the challenge; the real challenge was gaining remote access to the signal tower so they did not have to break into the radio station each time they wanted to make a broadcast. The only foolproof way they could think of achieving this was to imperius the owner of the WWN and have him perform the necessary spells whenever they needed access. Unfortunately, the current owner of the WWN was the Imperius curse specialist himself, Edmond Mulciber Jr.

There was no way for any Order member to gain access to one of Voldemort's high-ranking Death Eaters, let alone maintain control of him over an extended period. This was a job was an insider; and so it was that Harry finally contacted Draco.

* * *

"Where in Hades have you been, Potter? You've been ignoring my attempts to reach you for days," accused a justifiably angry Draco.

"There were some personal developments that prevented me from speaking with you sooner," was all Harry offered by way of explanation.

To Harry's credit he did look genuinely contrite. In light of their previous conversation, Draco suspected the personal development was related to Ginny so he did not press Harry on the matter.

"So, are you going to tell me how it went or not?" Draco asked, jumping straight to the point. He had already received a gist of what had taken place thanks to one protean charmed bracelet; nevertheless, he wanted details.

Harry obliged, telling him how they executed the plan as well as what was done with the prisoners afterwards. From the way Amycus had died, it appeared Ginny had started talking about her time before Bleidd, thought Draco; no wonder Harry had been too busy to deal with anything else.

"We need your help, Draco," began Harry. "The Death Eaters have control of the news agencies, as well as the news. We do not have the resources to print and owl pamphlets to the masses, but we could manage a radio broadcast to get everyone to hear our story ... We need help from someone close to Riddle's inner circle."

Draco approved of Harry's reasoning as well as his plan. The Death Eaters may not have forgotten about the Order because of the Dark Lord's obsession with Harry Potter, but the rest of the world had. It was smart of the Order to take some steps, at long last, to fight the Death Eater propaganda.

Draco concluded their call without mentioning anything about what his trackers had found or about Lucius and Fenrir working together to find him and Ginny Weasley.

* * *

A whole week would pass before the Order could carry out their plan for the WWN. During the week, Theo finally fire-called Draco and told him about the state of high alert at the Ministry. Theo had used his time well to test the waters and found more and more Death Eaters welcoming a revolution against the Dark Lord even if they were terrified to act against their master.

Through Theo, Draco discovered that Gunnolf was back in Britain and with Fenrir's pack at Bleidd. Draco was angry with Theo for putting Gunnolf in danger but Theo assured him, Mr. Beefcake, as he was so fond of referring to Gunnolf, was just fine. Gunnolf provided Theo with regular updates over the floo; he had expressed concern over Fenrir growing more 'feral' as leads for either Draco or Ginny continued to evade them. Theo did not understand Gunnolf's concerns, but Draco did—if Fenrir went feral, his entire pack would turn rogue.

It took Theo a couple of days to act on Draco's request but he came through, and of all the people it was Mulciber's wife who helped Theo catch the hardened Death Eater off his guard.

For a long time, witches had enjoyed equal standing with their male counterparts, performing all sorts of roles in their society. That changed when the Dark Lord decided to fix the declining birth rates by instilling his Marriage Law.

Though called the Marriage Law, its sole focus was reproduction. The law effectively stripped witches of all bodily autonomy, outlawing all forms of birth control and abortion as well as ordering them to reproduce or face dire consequences. With not enough Pureblood witches to go around, it was not long before those of fertile age began to be owned and traded by their male family members—their only purpose and value now as breeding stock. It wasn't much better for the rest of the Pureblood witches. Those too old to serve as broodmares had to watch their husbands defile their Pureblood prisoners until they got one pregnant.

The loss of independence and the intrusion of Black Cloaks—who now served as enforcers—in the intimate aspects of their lives were too much for most witches. Even the ones happily married to a wizard of their choice thought it was a terrible time to start a family.

Because of the efforts made by Pansy and Narcissa, when it came to the high-standing witches, Theo knew exactly who was most disaffected with the new regime and therefore most likely to help the other side. Unfortunately for the current owner of the WWN, his wife's discontentment had reached the point where she would have traded places with a squib if it meant being free of Mulciber and the impositions of the Marriage Law.

Theo, with assistance from Mrs Mulciber, hoodwinked her husband and turned him into an unwitting puppet of the Order. The Order then carried out their plan, breaking into the radio station and making the alterations needed to use the WWN's system to broadcast their messages. Hermione erased the memory of the incident from the minds of everyone working at the radio station that day so the break-in was never reported.

Soon the WWN began to broadcast regular messages from the Order about what was happening in wizarding Britain. Order members took turns hosting the show, reminding the public about the crimes committed by Voldemort and his followers as well as the measures being taken by the Order to fight the Death Eaters. They spoke of their dreams of a new world, free from the prejudices of blood superiority. They spoke of what they had lost, and how much more they were willing to sacrifice to achieve their dreams.

The show was a success, with more and more people tuning in for updates. The wizarding public in Great Britain was ready for a change; knowing the Order was still championing their cause filled them with hope. However, none of their broadcasts had quite the impact as the first one, when Harry Potter himself took the microphone and made his speech act. The Chosen One informed the public that as their first major act, the Order had destroyed the entire stock of Fero and taken four top Death Eaters as hostages; it was in his words, their declaration of war against Tom Riddle and his Death Eaters. Yet the words that haunted everyone who heard his speech that night was a line he had uttered in closing—it was time for them to pick a side.

* * *

AN: Updates will be sporadic because it really annoys me to login here and see how poorly this fic is faring. Jayzus, there are fics published an hour ago that are doing better.


	43. Chapter 43

AN: I'm astonished that anyone believed the Fanfic chapter I posted as Ch43 was how I genuinely concluded the story *SMDH* and I'm also a little sad that NOT one person here shares my twisted sense of humour (come on, how often does someone post a fanfic parodying their own fic).

On a more serious note, please don't try to shame me (and how rude that a person won't review to show their appreciation of a fic they claim to like but they will post a review to try to shame me); I was still posting chapters even when there were no reviews. I just didn't appreciate the 2 reviews on chp 42 that were telling me to basically get on with it. Hopefully, anyone who thinks the fic is too long or too dull or that I'm not posting fast enough for their liking has abandoned it by now.

Ya know all this could have been avoided if FFN would let authors post public replies to reviews/comments, because then I could have addressed the offending parties directly instead of pulling this crap. It would be even nicer if Favourites/ Reviews was not a criteria by which stories are searched for on this site, then authors like me wouldn't need to give a damn if anyone left a review on their fic.

Thank you Marifraus27, your review reminded me there were readers here who do actually like this fic.

* * *

**Chapter 43**

Hermione could sense Ginny's awkwardness as they quietly sipped on their respective cups of tea. It was just the two of them in the tiny living room of the safe house, but Hermione could hear Arthur, Molly, Fred and George eavesdropping from the other side of the wall.

The Weasleys, having grown concerned over Ginny's declining state, had invited Hermione to visit, in the hopes that the meeting would spark a breakthrough. As far as the Weasleys were concerned, both girls were kidnapped, raped and impregnated by Death Eaters, yet, while Hermione appeared to be coping, Ginny had become withdrawn and timid since her return home. Ginny's family desperately longed to hear her say that she was going to be okay.

Still, understanding their reasons did not make their behaviour any less annoying to Hermione. She was sure even Ginny could hear them holding their collective breath as they strained to listen to what was being said—which, currently, was nothing.

Tired of the stifling silence inside, Hermione asked if Ginny would join her for a walk outside. She had not really expected Ginny to follow her out. From what the Weasleys had informed her, Ginny had yet to leave the house since being brought there, but moments later she heard Ginny shuffling along behind her. After noticing Ginny's reluctance to leave the yard, which along with the house was protected with a concealment charm, Hermione changed her mind about the walk and settled on the bench in the backyard, where they would be out of earshot from the house.

Ginny remained quiet, eyes cast down, body visibly tensed and face scrunched in deep concentration—but at least the awkwardness from earlier was gone.

Ginny would say whatever it was she wanted to say once she was ready, thought Hermione. She leaned back with her eyes closed, soaking in the sunlight.

"I want to apologise to you—" The harsh quality of Ginny's voice did nothing to disturb the peace of the moment for Hermione. "Apologise?" she asked, eyes still closed.

"Cora told me what you were trying to do that day—you were trying to help and I attacked you ... I was a terrible friend ... the whole time at Bleidd. I never listened to what you were saying ... I didn't believe you ... You tried to be there for me, but I didn't—I couldn't do the same when you needed me to ..."

"It was different for you—" Hermione tilted her head sideways to look at Ginny, who was staring at the ground while she picked at a scab on her mutilated leg. "—there was a vast difference in our circumstances."

Ginny nodded, teeth clenched, as she continued to stare at the ground. A teardrop rolled down her cheek. "I lost the baby..." she said, in a voice barely above a whisper, "but I don't regret it. I don't feel bad that it died—it was a monster growing inside me... except, it wasn't a monster. It was an innocent—an innocent, I wished was dead, who then died because of my actions... Yet, I still don't feel remorse over its death... Did they turn me into a monster like themselves?"

Hermione mentally cursed each of Ginny's abusers. If anything, she thought it was a testament to what a decent person Ginny was that she would question her own humanity for not mourning the loss of her forced pregnancy.

"I was relieved," said Hermione, in a low and even tone. "When I first heard about the miscarriage, my immediate response was _relief_—" Ginny looked up in surprise so Hermione was finally able to make eye contact with her friend. "The baby may have been an innocent, but so were you—so _are_ you. You should never have been forced to carry that life and I will never regret its death because as long as that baby lived, you would never be able to move past what they did to you," Hermione stated with unwavering conviction.

Ginny returned her gaze to the ground and nodded. Her hands now gripped the edge of the bench instead of picking at old wounds.

Hermione drew in a shaky breath and exhaled noisily. The she-wolf wanted to tear apart the people responsible for hurting her friend, making it a struggle for her to sit still and just talk.

Ginny leaned against her.

"You think I can move past it?"

"I hope so. Do you feel that you can?"

"I used to... After I lost the baby, I used to think, I'll be okay once I'm back home... But now, I feel so... dirty... like l don't belong among these good and decent people..." Ginny stared at the house.

"You're good and decent too, Gin."

She shook her head. "The things I've done—that they made me do—_did_ to me—" Ginny exhaled noisily. "Talking to Cora was so much easier. She already knew—because of my medical reports, she already knew most of it... But, how could I ever speak of such things to them?" Ginny jerked her chin towards the house.

"You have no reason to feel dirty, and no one in your family thinks any less of you," assured Hermione. She informed Ginny about her slip-up with Harry and how it led to the Weasleys discovering what had happened to Ginny during her captivity.

"They know?" asked Ginny in disbelief. "But, they haven't been any different around me."

"How were you expecting them to be?"

"Disgusted...Ashamed...? I don't know, just different from before." Ginny stared intensely at the house as if she could see through the walls to the inhabitants inside.

"They love you just as fiercely as before."

Hermione told her about Molly's actions—how she had narrowly missed one and killed the other Carrow twin for what they had done to her daughter—by the end of which Ginny was sobbing openly. It occurred only then to Hermione that Ginny had been so broken by her abusers she had forgotten just how much her family loved her.

"I don't care for revenge," Ginny told her between sobs. "I want my old life back. I want to forget everything that happened... I want to be myself again."

Hermione wrapped an arm around her friend, hugging her, while Ginny clung to her and cried. She had held Ginny in a similar manner many times when they were prisoners at Bleidd. Back then, Ginny's tears were borne of her despair. Something was different about her tears this time.

When Ginny finally settled down, despite the puffy red eyes and tear-stained cheeks, she appeared hopeful.

"You know Harry's feelings for you haven't changed either," said Hermione. It was a risk, she could end up pushing Ginny too far, but she would be a lousy friend if she failed to mention Harry.

"I still want that future with Harry—the one I'd always dreamed we'd have some day after the war—I want to believe we can still have that future... but I don't see how he could still want me."

"He still loves you," said Hermione.

Both were silent for a while, with Hermione not sure of what else she could say. Only Harry could convince Ginny of the truth of his feelings, just like the she-wolf needed Draco to convince her of his worth as a mate.

"Tell me what else has been going on... How did we even manage to capture the Carrows?"

Ginny appeared to show interest in a way she had not shown since before her imprisonment, so Hermione told her about everything that had happened since she left Bleidd. She told Ginny about how Fenrir had taken her, raped her, threatened the lives of her sons and bitten her. She told Ginny these things not because she wanted to talk about them, but because she thought she should.

Hermione told Ginny about the changes at Bleidd, about Draco's escape to Uganda, and about Zoey's horrible death. Ginny did not know the girl but cried for her, being the only one with an understanding of what Zoey would have endured in the hours before she died. Aware of Cora's attachment to Zoey, Ginny expressed concern for how the mediwitch was coping with her loss. Ginny held Cora in high esteem for all the help she had provided without ever judging her. That made Hermione snort in disbelief since Cora was always critical of her.

Hermione did not tell Ginny about being a dire wolf—and possibly the Promised One—but she did tell her about Uagadou, her little saviours, and the opportunity for a better life that awaited her there. She told her about Babjide and the ICW, and their thoughts about the Order. She also spoke of the Order's recent successes. Ginny was particularly happy to hear that the factory producing the damned Fero, a potion that had been used multiple times to rob them of their will, was destroyed.

"I want to give you my memories," said Ginny when Hermione finished her narration. "They want proof, show them my memories"—Ginny gulped audibly—"of the revel at Godric's Hollow and my memories of the day Riddle decided to give me to Lucius... It wasn't just me, there were other Pureblood witches given away as _rewards_. Let them see what it was like for me," said Ginny.

And even though she was shaking, clearly scared by the very prospect of showing strangers those horrific moments of her life, Ginny had never looked more courageous before.

* * *

The pack was beginning to grow restless, which could be related to his own mood. They were camped on land not their own, with no idea of how long they may have to live there. His pups were living away from the pack. Even though it was for their safety, not having them under his roof left Draco feeling off-kilter and based on the number of times Mipsy had needed to call him for help, it appeared the twins did not like being away either. And, his mate was still missing.

A small glimmer of hope came in the form of information gathered by one of the tracking teams. Some of the neighbouring tribes had spoken about a creature terrorising the local animals until it was captured by the teachers at Uagadou. The language barrier made it a challenge to grasp details like what kind of creature or how long ago the event had taken place, but with no other leads to pursue Draco thought the school may be worth investigating.

* * *

"Yaxley's ready to talk."

Hermione was startled by the sudden appearance of the silvery patronus. She could not recall the last time she had seen one.

The message, sent by Cho Chang, was meant for Harry, who was besides Hermione at the time, taking a nap instead of helping out like he said he would. Hermione had resumed her research on the horcruxes and spent most of the day reviewing her old notes. Harry left by himself shortly thereafter. Hermione stayed back as she felt close to solving the mystery of the final horcrux; she just couldn't shake off the feeling that the answer she sought may have been staring her in the face all along.

* * *

"Moonrise," warned Fenrir before turning into a wolf and mounting the bitch in front of him ...except, it wasn't moonrise, not a full moon anyway. There were still a couple of weeks left before the next full moon, but no one would dare explain that to the alpha, who was slowly losing his mind.

Gunnolf watched in silence, appalled, as Fenrir roughly fucked another one of the pack's females—something he had done to a different female every night for the last seven nights while making the rest of them watch. In his madness, Fenrir had grown certain that he would sire a litter of pups with every female and would say so each time he was done knotting with them.

"You're young and strong, I'm sure you'll give me a healthy pup," said Fenrir with a toothy smile to the whimpering female lying on the ground. He seemed not to notice the trail of blood and cum leaking out of girl due to him forcefully pulling out before his knot had deflated.

Gunnolf was helpless. Even with his mind coming apart, Fenrir was still one of the strongest alphas he had known of; he would never win in a fight against Fenrir. However, his task was not to take down Fenrir, it was to keep tabs on him. To do so, Gunnolf needed to be extra careful not to draw unnecessary attention to himself or he would risk Fenrir noticing at last the absence of a bond between them.

* * *

The ring on Draco's finger grew warm, a warning from his mother: Lucius and Greyback were headed to Uganda.


	44. Chapter 44

In the weeks prior to Fenrir and Lucius suspecting that Draco could be hiding in Uganda, the Order caught a big break independent of any help from Draco, Theo or Hermione.

While Theosophus Nott and Alecto Carrow feared the Dark Lord's retribution more than anything the Order could to do to them, Corban Yaxley did not feel the same. Yaxley decided it would be more prudent to cut a deal with the Order and live to be tortured by the Dark Lord someday in the future, than suffer now and most likely end up dead like Amycus.

Normally, any information Yaxley had to provide would have been useless as both sides followed certain security protocols to safeguard their interests in case any of their members or networks were compromised. This was the chief reason interrogations were pointless and a flimsy excuse to torture the enemy. However, Yaxley had something that none of his fellow Death Eaters knew he possessed.

A paranoid person by nature, more so after seeing how easily the Dark Lord could turn on his followers, Yaxley began to secretly collect and preserve strands of hair belonging to several Death Eaters across the ranks. He made use of his collection to spy on those he suspected of scheming to replace him as Head of Magical Law Enforcement, but it was also meant to provide him with the means to frame his enemies should he ever find himself in a pickle and in need of a scapegoat.

Yaxley offered to direct the Order to his hidden stash of hair and freshly brewed batch of polyjuice potion in exchange for a promise of leniency to be showed towards him for his crimes. It took the Order some days to get back to him, during which time they verified that he was not leading them into a trap. It confirmed his suspicion that they had help from within the Death Eater organisation.

In accordance with their deal, as the current leader of the Order, Harry Potter made a wand oath swearing that Yaxley would not be executed or given the Kiss. However, once the war was over he would be sent to Azkaban where he would live out the rest of his days with no hope of parole, which was fine with Yaxley. After all, he had sworn no oath agreeing to stay a prisoner forever.

His only goal now was to survive for as long as it took his fellow Death Eaters to rescue him... if they ever bothered to rescue him at all.

* * *

"The Department of Magical Transportation?" asked Harry Potter.

"The Department of Magical Transportation," repeated Neville Longbottom.

After a discussion among themselves, a majority of the Order had voted that upon infiltrating the Ministry it would be in their best interest to, foremost, render useless or destroy the department responsible for various aspects of magical transport.

Ever since the Death Eaters took over the Ministry, travel by portkey and the floo network was restricted and closely monitored. International travel by broom or apparition was banned, and nearly all forms of magical travel within Britain were heavily regulated. The Order was consequently crippled, as not only were their movements restricted, but it also cut off the possibility of them seeking help from outside.

Destroying the Department of Magical Transportation was an extreme measure that would add to their daunting task of rebuilding wizarding Britain in the aftermath of the war. However, Harry agreed that the Order could only afford to worry about surviving the war for now.

Once planned, the attack was executed by members of the Order like Percy Weasley and Kingsley Shacklebot, who had worked within the Ministry and were familiar with the layout and workings of its different departments. They entered the premises, polyjuiced to look like employees of the Department of Magical Transport. This was the most dangerous phase of their plan that required them to find the opportune moment to confront the real employees they were impersonating and imperius them.

Once the Order had the legitimate employees under their control, they used them to wreck the spellwork, which allowed the Ministry the ability to monitor travel within Britain and replace it with a bogus spell meant to generate random dates, names and places to create the appearance of records being maintained. Finally, the compromised employees were obliviated so they had no memory of what they had done while imperiused.

Thus, within the span of a few days, the Order had not only secured the means to travel freely without worrying about being tracked by the Ministry, they had done so without their enemies being any wiser. Hermione was not involved in either the making or the executing of these plans as around the same time she found herself set upon a different path.

* * *

"Of the three, I would never have pegged Yaxley to be the first one to crack," observed Harry with a shake of his head.

"What on earth! You've had sex... and it wasn't with Ginny," accused Hermione when she was done sniffing Harry.

Harry stepped back. "I don't know what—"

"Harry Potter, don't you dare even think of trying to lie to me right now," warned Hermione with both hands on her hips.

"Okay, okay," replied Harry meekly, raising his hands, palms facing outward in surrender. "This whole sniffing thing you do is really creepy," he grumbled under his breath.

Hermione picked up one of her research scrolls and whacked Harry on the head with it. She would have liked to hit him with something harder, but he was too vital to their cause to risk any permanent damage.

"You cheated on your girlfriend. You don't get to call me a creep."

"I didn't cheat on my girlfriend."

"What did I just say about lying—"

"Ginny ended things between us... The very day she returned, her first and only words to me—she said, she couldn't see a future for us." Harry looked away, adding quietly, "and she's not wrong about it."

Hearing the despondency in her friend's voice, Hermione's tone and expression softened instantly.

"Harry, you can't give up on her this easily. Have you forgotten the number of times you ended things with her? If you love her, which I know you do, you have to give her the time she needs... You DON'T have sex with someone else!" She gave him a couple of whacks to the side of his head for good measure.

"Who was it?" she demanded.

Harry looked like he would not answer. Hermione stared daggers at him until he conceded.

"Cho."

"Chang?"

He nodded.

"Bloody hell, that's still going on?"

It was no secret that Harry and Cho hooked up now and then over the years, usually whenever he and Ginny were on a break, which was often in the early years of their relationship. Harry had tried several times to distance himself from Ginny, fearing for her life and safety. But after the Order was forced into hiding he could finally see that, as a member of the Order Ginny would be a target irrespective of her association with him. Harry realised then that staying away from Ginny was only causing the two of them needless grief and they never broke up after that.

Hermione never understood why Harry kept returning to Cho when he did not love her. She had asked him about it once, to which he replied, that it wasn't all that complicated. It was a no-strings-attached relationship, where they made each other feel a little less lonely when they needed it.

Alarm bells set off in her head as Hermione thought about all of Harry's odd actions recently. It could only mean one thing.

"Okay, out with it. What kind of suicide-mission have you got planned?" she asked him while rubbing at her forehead. There were times Harry could be mature beyond his years, at others he was still that reckless boy she had come to know at Hogwarts, mindlessly risking his own life for one thing or the other.

Harry responded with a bemused stare.

"Don't think I haven't noticed how moody you've been acting since I returned. You keep pushing for the final confrontation with Riddle and act like you've nothing to live for anymore," observed Hermione. "And now you're sleeping with Cho and saying you don't have a future with Ginny. So obviously, you're planning to do something that's going to get you killed. What is it?"

Harry shook his head.

"I haven't planned any suicide-mission and I don't plan on doing anything to endanger my life either." In a monotone voice he murmured, "Maybe I'm just resigned to the fact that I may not come out of this alive."

It was true that there were no guarantees Harry would emerge victorious in a final battle between him and Voldemort, and all of her senses confirmed that he was telling her the truth, yet something was off.

"There has to be something else," she said with a shake of her head. "You've always been an optimist, Harry. From when do you go around getting all broody imagining the worst?"

"You know me too well," he said with a slightly asymmetric smile that only underscored the sadness in his eyes.

Harry sat down, inviting Hermione to sit beside him.

"I'm not sure if I should tell you, since I wasn't meant to find out myself... not this early anyway," he told her. "When we evacuated our safe house after you were captured, I ended up in possession of Severus's belongings... Among the vials of his memories was one I didn't remember having seen before. It had Professor Dumbledore's name on it.

"I spent a lot of time alone being shuffled from one safe house to the other... I had time and nothing to do, that could be why I did it—or maybe my curiosity just got the better of me, again—but I couldn't resist the urge to view it... The memory was Professor Dumbledore's alright. It was a conversation between him and Severus about a horcrux that was unwittingly created."

Harry looked away and sighed deeply.

"Haven't we often wondered why is it I can speak Parseltongue when being a Parselmouth is a hereditary trait? And why do I have this connection with Vol—Riddle's mind?" asked Harry rubbing his scar.

Hermione gasped, covering her mouth with her hand. She could not say it, the thought was vile and its implications tragic. It could not be. Harry could not be—

"I am the final horcrux," he said with an empty stare and his shoulders hunched. "I believe we're meant to kill each other, which will finally put an end to his dark reign."

Hermione was unable to respond to Harry, their conversation interrupted as an unknown patronus came bounding into the room.

"Hermione, DANGER! Muh-coo-sa are hunting your friends. They said Order of Phoenix are terrorists. They send American agents to Britain to kill terrorists—"

Hermione had instantly recognised the voice. From her intonation, it was clear that Kalisha had read the first few lines, but any doubt that someone else had forced the child to do so was removed when she heard the rest of Kalisha's message.

"—Come back to Uagadou, Hermione. Bring babies and come back. We keep you safe."

There was no mistaking the warmth and sincerity in Kalisha's voice, which meant there was no questioning the severity of the warning.

"Am I hallucinating, or did a child just warn you that we're being hunted by agents of the Magical Congress of the USA?" asked a stunned-looking Harry.

Hermione nodded.

She wanted to talk to Harry about his discovery that he was a horcrux. She wanted to console her friend and tell him it was not a hopeless situation, even if they both knew otherwise. However, it would have to wait as she needed to speak with Babjide first.

So far, the international community had stayed neutral, why would the MACUSA suddenly call the Order terrorists and want to kill them? It was unlikely that agents of the MACUSA acted without the tacit approval of the ICW, but Babjide had promised to support the Order. Had he reneged on his word already or simply grown tired of waiting for her to turn up with evidence to back up her claims? Surely, he would know that these things take time, thought Hermione, feeling a twinge of guilt knowing she had actively done nothing so far to collect proof of the Death Eaters' misdeeds.

"I'm going to have to speak to the Supreme Mugwump of the ICW. He's the only one who'll be able to provide the answers we need right now," she explained to Harry.

* * *

With no secure means to contact Babjide, Hermione decided to call him on his personal floo. She borrowed Harry's invisibility cloak to sneak into the Three Broomsticks in Hogsmeade, which was the closest working floo she could safely use. She waited until the place was abandoned by its patrons and the owner retired for the night before she gave the Supreme Mugwump of the ICW a call.

Babjide gave her a withering look. He was not too pleased about being disturbed at so late an hour, but he did not refuse to speak with her.

"I've been anticipating your call," he began, "I had hoped the children would pass my message to you."

"What is going on? Explain yourself," she demanded.

Hermione inwardly winced at how rude she sounded, but it could not be helped. Something about Babjide's persona made the she-wolf want to assert her dominance.

Thankfully, the wizard ignored her tone and quickly relayed to her the extent of the damage caused by the attack on Malfoy Potions as well as its far-reaching consequences.

Hermione, who was unaware that there had been any casualties, was shocked to hear just how many Muggles were critically injured by the blasts. Even worse, the blasts had created an international crisis that had been resolved only because of the timely intervention by agents from the MACUSA's Department of No-Maj Misinformation.

Hearing that the MACUSA was now involved, Hermione begged Babjide to intervene, assuring him that she would bring him the evidence he needed.

"It is out of my hands now, Miss Granger. You did yourself no favours by going on the radio and taking credit for those blasts—"

These words, like the rest of their conversation, would haunt her. After all, was it not at her prompting that Harry went on the airwaves to take credit for the attack?

"—The MACUSA has decided that the Order is far too dangerous and needs to be stopped. I have come to suspect that they are aware of what your current government has been doing to the Muggleborns, but have chosen to turn a blind eye because, while they may not approve of the methods, they do approve of their objective to have a total separation of the Magical from the Non-Magical.

"Their agents are known to work in a manner that is more unconventional than you are—Well, I suppose it's unconventional to what you _were _used to... I believed I owed you the courtesy to warn you of the danger these agents pose to your lives. _Be careful_," he said, surprising her with the genuine concern reflected in his eyes.

He reminded her again why he could not do more at this time. "Without any concrete evidence, I cannot help you or command the MACUSA to recall their agents. I fully intend to follow through with our deal, but for now my hands are tied."

* * *

Unable to sleep as she wrestled with her conscience, Hermione sat alone by herself, instead of sleeping with her pack as she had done every night since they came to live in the Forbidden Forest. Quietly, she shed bitter tears of regret. She had abandoned her infant sons because she believed her place was beside Harry, yet her return triggered a series of events so now on top of the Death Eaters the Order also had to worry about being hunted down and executed by agents from MACUSA.

If not for her, Harry and the rest would not have found out about Ginny. They would not have used excessive force in the attack on Malfoy Potions. There would have been no consequences in the Muggle world and the MACUSA would have no reason to get involved.

Instead of doing the task she came here to do—a task that would have resulted in the Order receiving the help they needed to win the war—she had allowed herself to get sidetracked. Was this what Magorian had tried to warn her about when he said she had her own path to follow?

The best thing she could do now to help the Order was to collect the proof Babjide needed. Harry did not need her help. He had spent months burdened with the knowledge that to ultimately kill Voldemort he would have to sacrifice his life and still he had not let that cloud his judgement. Even the Order had managed just fine without her.

So many had tried to tell her that she did not need to stay with the Order to help the cause, Oskar, Cora, Gunnolf and...

Hermione tried to not think about the man who had called her mate and promised to be hers forever. He had let her go even though he did not wish to be separated from her because she had insisted her place was with Harry. He had tried to explain to her why he could not leave with her and why he could not turn her if she was leaving. He had told her of the madness that affected their wolves if they were without a pack, but she had not understood, not back then anyway.

She needed to gather what evidence she could and return to Draco and her sons. The she-wolf was her animal spirit. Instead of worrying about what she may do, she needed to trust herself. She had not hurt Kalisha or any of the other children even in her weakest and feral state so why would she hurt the people she loved?

The truth was that she was hiding. Hiding, because she was ashamed. She was the one who chose to leave, to abandon her family, because of which Fenrir was able take her and turn her. It should have been her mate who turned her when they claimed each other before the moon goddess. Instead, she would now forever be linked to a monster like Fenrir because she had chosen not to stay with Draco.

But she understood her path now, and why she could no longer stay with Harry or the Order.

Hermione was a different person in the days that followed. She explained what the situation was to Harry, what she needed to do and why it had to be done. Harry approved, even though it meant he would be all alone once she left. She tried to convince him to speak to Ron or anyone else within the Order. It was not right that he should spend his days feeling lonely, with nothing to look forward to but his final battle with Voldemort. Her heart went out to Harry, but nothing could distract her from her personal mission.

All she had so far were the memories given to her by Ginny, but those alone would not suffice to paint a picture for the outsiders of what their world was like now. So while the Order carried out their gradual infiltration of the Ministry of Magic, Hermione started visiting members of the Order and collecting their sworn statements and memories. She also spoke to the various creatures of the forest to find the unicorn who had seen firsthand the creature experiments being conducted by the Death Eaters.

All lives mattered, as far as Hermione was concerned. However, when it came to large organisations, Hermione had seen that some lives mattered more than others. She doubted the MACUSA and ICW were any different. They would not care too much about the plight of creatures or Order members, who were seen as terrorists. To provide what they would consider unbiased proof of the criminal activities and systemic abuse that had become a norm under Voldemort's rule, she would need testimonies of the Pureblood elite.

As if there weren't enough reasons already, Hermione now had yet another reason to hurry back to Draco.

* * *

AN: It was nice to see some old names in the reviews. I appreciate the show of support.


	45. Chapter 45

"How did they even figure out where you were?" asked Theo.

"Fenrir connected the dots between my departure from Bleidd and the base in Uganda being destroyed the same day... He assumes I'm responsible," explained Draco.

"Talk about crappy luck. Flawed assumption, though it may be, it still leads them straight to you," said Theo with a shake of his head. "Tell me you've at least moved to a different location?"

Draco did not say anything. Theo blinked a few times.

"Unbelievable! You've relocated your sons, even though they are the least in danger. Knowing how much the Dark Lord is interested in the twins—after all, they are the only success story he has to show for all his ungodly experiments—you can be certain that neither Lucius nor Greyback would dare harm your sprogs, BUT, you move them." Theo's voice took on a sharp tone, "Meanwhile the rest of you, who they have NO reason or desire to spare, continue to stay camped within a stone's throw of the Death Eater base! There are other cities you know, it's not like Uganda has the same travel restrictions as we do—_did_."

Draco did not share Theo's certainty concerning the safety of his sons. Now that Fenrir was gradually losing his mind and growing more irrational by the day, he could not be sure that Fenrir would not try to hurt his pups as a way to punish him. Theo was right about moving though. It was a huge risk to stay so close to the Death Eater base, especially since they were more likely to try to kill than subdue him and his pack. Yet, some instinct told Draco he was in the right place and as Oskar often said, instinct was nothing but the fates giving you a nudge in the right direction.

"I have a lead on Hermione..."

"Oh... I wasn't sure how to say this to you before but I think Mr. Beefcake knows something about Granger—He's DEFINITELY hiding something."

"Why do you say that?"

Theo shrugged. "He just acts very cagey anytime I mention Granger and he refuses to tell me how he managed to return to England. I know when someone's keeping something from me and he's hiding something... Also, isn't it odd that you learnt about Greyback going to Uganda from Narcissa?—Convenient for you that she has a piece of jewellery she never takes off. Makes me wonder if I should start wearing my signet ring, in case I have need again in the future for this kind of scheming and planning. If only, the damn thing wasn't so huge and gaudy. Unlike the Malfoys and the Blacks, the Notts believed in flaunting it—"

"Theo..."

"—Of course, this would be something I could only consider in the future. Couldn't risk it right now. People would notice if I suddenly started wearing—"

"THEO," Draco called forcefully enough to catch his attention at last, "...you were saying about Gunnolf?"

"Yes, I'm getting to it. As I was trying to say, before I was _rudely _interrupted, Mr Beefcake was sent to Wolf Castle to keep an eye on Greyback, but he hasn't given me any useful information so far. In fact, the only update I got from him this week was about the fuckfest Greyback's been having. Unless... Do you think it was a signal? It's hard to tell over the floo, but maybe he was coming on to me—he does strike me as the type who would be bad at flirting. Nevertheless, isn't it odd that he never mentioned anything about Greyback making war-like preparations for Uganda?"

It was hard to tell if Theo's paranoia was warranted or just the side-effect of the high amounts of cheering potion he was consuming these days. His unnaturally bright eyes, uncharacteristic babbling and animated gestures suggested the latter. Although _it was odd _that Gunnolf failed to mention Fenrir's plans to Theo in any of their recent conversations.

"Can you check up on Gunnolf?"

"I spoke with him a couple of days ago, he's fine."

Draco could not explain the uneasy feeling in the pit of his stomach but he knew better than to ignore his instincts. He had spoken with Oskar about his inability to sense Gunnolf. At first, both men presumed the distance was affecting the bond, but when Draco described the emptiness that had replaced his bond with Gunnolf, Oskar concluded that the bond had been severed. In all likelihood, Fenrir had noticed Gunnolf was no longer bonded with him and forced him to accept his alpha bond.

"Find some excuse to go there and check on him in person. Please," requested Draco and Theo begrudgingly agreed.

"So what is this lead you have for Granger?"

"Uagadou."

"Ah... yes!"

Theo jumped to his feet and began to pace in front of his fireplace as he spoke so all Draco could see of him were his legs.

"We went there to look for her. Didn't find her, of course, but the entire time I couldn't get rid of the feeling like they were hiding something from me. I doubt they'll be any more forthcoming with you—Wait a minute, they just might! The people there really do have a thing for creatures. You should play on that. By the way, who's been advising the Order lately?"

"Hmm?"

"Come on," said Theo in a tone Draco could practically _hear _him roll his eyes, "after all this time, out of the blue they decide to switch strategies like that? Can you imagine the kind of interrogation tactics they used to get someone like _Yaxley _talking? Even their plan to attack the WWN and the Department of Magical Transportation—nothing like the Order we've known all these years. Definitely some new influence there."

It was not just those things. Draco had called Harry soon after Theo told him about agents from the MACUSA joining forces with the Death Eaters against the Order. Harry's reaction to the shocking news was suspiciously tame. Draco's knowledge of what went on within the Order was limited to whatever Harry told him and Harry appeared to be holding his cards close to his chest.

"Potter said the plan to attack the WWN was Luna Lovegood's idea."

"_Looney_ Lovegood?"

"The same."

Theo got back down on his knees so Draco was able to see his face again.

"The radio program is immensely popular. Don't know about Mulciber, but his wife sure enjoys it. In fact, as per Pansy, many Death Eater wives have expressed their pleasure over how nervous their husbands have become in recent times... Draco," said Theo, looking pensive all of a sudden, "it's time for that talk with the Order."

"So soon?" asked Draco. "You think people are ready? Shouldn't we at least wait till the Dark Lord is dead?"

"The tide's been turning for a while, but now we finally have some momentum... The only thing that can ruin it is if people start worrying about repercussions. Without assurances, they will not act."

Draco nodded. It was time talk to Harry about the future.

* * *

"So Lucius is now helping Greyback, who has figured out that you're in Uganda?" asked Harry.

Draco had just finished telling Harry about the Dark Lord's directive for Lucius and Fenrir to work together to find and kill Draco and his pack of militant werewolves and return to Britain with his sons and Ginny as their captives.

He nodded.

"Didn't you have someone watching Greyback?" asked Harry.

Draco had previously mentioned that he had a spy at Bleidd. Like Theo, Harry also questioned why Gunnolf had not been the one to send the warning.

"Yes, Gunnolf. He would run the pack in Fenrir's absence. Fenrir doesn't know it, but Gunnolf's loyal to me and has been passing along information about the happenings at Bleidd."

Harry did not look too convinced but let it go.

"What's your plan to stop them this time?"

Draco shook his head.

"Nothing, I don't think I can put off this confrontation any more. At least my pack is well rested and fighting fit right now."

The pack was restless and eager to move out of their temporary abode. They also did not like being separated from the twins. The pack adored Draco's sons, who they saw as a manifestation of the promise Luna had made to their kind so long ago. Draco's decision to have the twins living away from the pack was taken as a personal insult by each _were_. To them, it meant their alpha did not deem them capable of protecting his pups. Instead of being afraid, they were almost relieved by the news of Fenrir preparing to come to Uganda. They believed they would finally be able to move on with their lives once Fenrir was dead. Consequently, they were looking forward to the fight.

Harry wore a deep frown of what Draco thought was disapproval until he asked, "What can I do to help?"

"I actually wanted to talk about a different matter. I had planned to discuss these things with you at a much later stage but with how quickly things have progressed within just the last month perhaps it is time we spoke about the future."

"What do you mean?"

"What happens after the war, Harry? As winners of the war, how do you plan to deal with those of us who didn't always fight alongside the Order?"

"What makes you think we'll win... or that we'll even survive this war?"

"Must be the Slytherin in me, I know I'll do whatever it takes to survive— it's just how I am. What will happen to people like me, like Theo, my mother and others like her?"

Harry stared at him, brow furrowed in thought. It was likely Harry had never considered these things before.

"Many Death Eaters are ready to defect, what is the Order willing to offer them in exchange?"

"What do you mean, Draco? What other alternative is there, but to join us?"

Draco shook his head. "If joining the Order means having to face a tribunal after the war and being tried for their crimes, then people may choose to maintain the status quo."

"What do you want?" asked Harry, appearing to understand at last.

"What can you give us, give them?"

"I don't know. Never really thought about it before."

"Well, I'm telling you to think about it now. Talk to your people and decide what kind of a deal you can live with."

"What else?"

"Go on your radio show and offer full amnesty for any defector who was only carrying out orders." Draco could tell that Harry wasn't too pleased with the idea so he quickly added, "More people will be willing to defect if you do so. You can properly prosecute those belonging to the Dark Lord's inner circle—they chose to act of their own free will. But anyone who was simply following orders—"

"You're suggesting we let all these people walk away without facing any consequences," Harry shook his head, his frown deeper than before. "Where's the justice in that? Are we supposed to pretend like the past few years never happened? Things would not have gone on for as long as they did, or become as bad as they did, if it was only the inner circle committing these atrocities.

"People were raped, tortured and killed for sport. People were enslaved, stripped of their basic rights. Instead of a well-rounded education at Hogwarts, children were corrupted with Dark Magic and trained to become _his _soldiers. So many lives ruined... So many lives lost. And you say we should offer them absolution for their actions because they are willing to join us now?"

"Yes," replied Draco with brutal honesty. "You, your people, may not be happy about the situation, but you need to accept that you can either hold out for justice or offer clemency to the people who hurt you and your loved ones as the price to put an end to this war. But while you're trying to be all noble, bear in mind that without the support of the people, you may succeed in killing the Dark Lord but we'll never be free of the Death Eaters."

Forehead vein bulging, Harry ground out, "Too much blood has been spilled—"

"And a whole lot more will be spilled before we ultimately defeat the Dark Lord's army," Draco snapped at him. "People are selfish and will always want to protect their interests first. Don't expect them to do the right thing just because it is the right thing to do... especially not if it's going to hurt them in the future."

He wouldn't get through to Harry this way. Draco softened his tone. "The only way to destroy the Dark Lord's army is to make them turn on their own. Harry, we _need_ to regain control of the Ministry—for which we will need the backing of many influential Death Eaters—otherwise we may very well find ourselves in a situation where it is the Order, and everyone who fought along with you, who will be tried as criminals for killing the Dark Lord."

* * *

Hermione believed she had collected whatever evidence she could hope to obtain on her own. Would it be wiser to first alert Draco using Harry's two-way mirror or head straight to Uganda and surprise him? Either way, she would need Draco's help if she wished to get any proof from the Purebloods so the completion of her project would have to wait until after her reunion with Draco. Thinking of seeing him again filled her with both, dread and longing so she thought of the other person in Uganda she was looking forward to meet, Cora.

Voldemort had personally been involved in the experiments conducted on the werewolves, the outcome of which was the most commonly used version of the Fero potion. Who better than Cora to testify to the crimes committed during the potion trials? With her medical background and dispassionate manner, Cora could convincingly provide her expert opinion on the things she had witnessed in the dungeons at Bleidd. Typically, Cora refrained from getting involved in anything that did not directly concern the pack or their kind, but given the nature of Zoey's death, Hermione suspected she would be highly motivated to speak before the ICW.

Now that she was no longer warring with herself all the time, Hermione found she had a lot of free time to think. For the most part her thoughts were occupied by her sons, Draco and the pack... in other words, her future. She wanted to talk to Cora to learn more about what was done to the werewolves at Bleidd. Draco had tried to explain it to her, but lacking any formal medical training, he himself had understood little of the procedures only that some form of gene manipulation was involved.

Hermione questioned whether her children existed because Draco's genes had been altered by the experiments or because she was Draco's true mate and their children were the 'fruit' mentioned in the ancient prophecy? What did the prophecy really mean? How would her sons break the curse of lycanthropy? The key to solving the puzzle lay in first understanding what it was Voldemort had done to the werewolves. The more Hermione thought about it, the more she felt like this was what she needed to pursue once she wrapped up her current project and submitted all her evidence to the ICW.

Still in the midst of her ruminations, Hermione had an unsettling feeling in the pit of her stomach. The source of her distress was Gunnolf, or more accurately, she could sense his distress. The problem was that she did not know where he was. Short of sneaking into the Ministry and questioning Theodore Nott about Gunnolf's whereabouts, she had no idea where to even start looking for her beta.

Just then, Harry walked into her line of sight, looking troubled. He quickly told Hermione about the conundrum Draco had placed before him. Harry's area of expertise lay in hunting and defeating Dark wizards. Forced to deliberate the cost-benefit of forgoing the prosecution of individuals who may have been complicit in committing genocide and other war crimes was giving the poor man a headache, so it was understandable that he did not tell her about the rest of his conversation with Draco until later, the same day.

"Lucius and Greyback have discovered where Draco is hiding. They're going after him."

"No, he's mine," yelled the she-wolf leaping towards the exit.

Harry jumped after her, grabbing her by the waist in his attempt to stop her. He realised too late that it was the wrong move. Quick as a flash Hermione had transformed and grabbed his scruff with her teeth.

There was no need to imagine what was going through Harry's head at the time—his scent said it all. It did not make Hermione think any less of Harry. Watching her transform and attack him, would have been terrifying enough even if she were a normal sized wolf.

Hermione dropped Harry to the floor and circled his prone form. He had the good sense to keep his head down and stay still, so it took only a few minutes for her to relax enough to slip back into her human form.

"Hermione, what was that?" Harry asked her when he eventually found his voice.

Undoubtedly, he had been shocked by the discovery that a werewolf could transform without the influence of the full moon. Like most wizards, Harry would not have known of the special powers alphas possessed to enable them to protect their pack. Would it serve any purpose to betray the secrets of their kind by telling him?

"I think it's a side-effect of the potions they fed me," she lied. Harry may be her best friend, but he was not pack.

"I'm sorry for startling you the way I did," said Harry, most likely attributing her reaction to trauma from her rape. He was usually careful about touching her for the same reason and Hermione had felt no need to correct him. If believing what he did prevented Harry from making any kind of contact her wolf may perceive as a threat, she would never have cause to beat her friend into submission.

"I have to go now, Harry," she told him. She needed to get to Uganda before Fenrir got there... before Draco killed him. Fenrir was hers and no one was going to steal away her chance for revenge.

Hermione suddenly shouted and fell to the ground, crying out in pain—except it wasn't hers. The excruciating pain was coming through one of her pack bonds.

_Gunnolf. _

It felt like an eternity passed before her agony ended and then suddenly there was nothing. Just like that, where she had once felt Gunnolf linked to her, all that existed now was emptiness.


	46. Chapter 46

Born into one of the oldest and wealthiest wizarding families, Lucius Malfoy was raised as Pureblood nobility, believing strongly in the notions of blood purity and the superiority of Pureblood wizards over everyone else. He grew into a proud, shrewd and influential man who enjoyed controlling others. Therefore, it was a mystery, how it all went so horribly wrong and how he ended up effectively the indentured servant of a Halfblood maniac.

No, that wasn't true. He knew who was truly responsible. HARRY POTTER.

Lucius joined the Death Eaters, who shared his views on blood purity, and participated in the Wizarding War because he believed the Ministry's policy of inclusion, when it came to muggleborns and other unworthy creatures, would ultimately lead to the downfall of their society. However, his loyalty had always been towards the cause, not Lord Voldemort, despite being a highly ranked Death Eater.

After the first war, ever the opportunist, Lucius had no qualms about considering an alliance with Harry Potter, the very same boy who as an infant had defeated their leader and brought their entire movement to a grinding halt, because he believed the boy could grow to be one of the darkest wizards of their times and lead the next Pureblood uprising. Unfortunately and thanks greatly to Dumbledore's meddling, the boy was completely opposed to achieving his true potential. Instead, the Chosen One had chosen to become a thorn in all their sides.

It started with Potter's refusal to befriend his son, casting his lot with the beggarly Weasleys instead, and tormenting Draco throughout their school years. Lucius lost his house-elf after the boy tricked him into freeing the creature. It was Harry Potter's actions that led to the destruction of the diary horcrux in the Chamber of Secrets and then the prophecy at the Department of Mysteries, which in turn led to Lucius' fall from grace with the Dark Lord. Lucius had gotten away with far worse during the Wizarding War, but due to Potter's interference, he ended up imprisoned and forced to suffer the horrors of the soul-sucking dementors for a whole year.

However, of all his sins, the worst one had to be his escape from the Room of Hidden Things after he stole and destroyed the diadem horcrux. Thanks to Harry Potter, Draco, his precious heir, was condemned to the life of a half-breed. Lucius, who once had a hippogriff put to death for nipping at Draco, was forced to stand by while Greyback's dogs ravaged his son. In truth, Lucius did not care for a new heir, but if forcing Ginevra Weasley to carry his child inflicted even an iota of the hurt Harry Potter had caused him, he was happy to go along with the Dark Lord's plans.

Lucius felt no attraction towards Ginevra Weasley. She was a chore for him, though perhaps her fate was linked to his. Years ago, he had slipped the young girl Tom Riddle's diary in an attempt to force Dumbledore out of his position as Headmaster of Hogwarts and to sabotage her father's career. The girl had miraculously survived that ordeal only to end up his prisoner years later.

Cissa was obviously not happy that he was required to have sex with another woman. Her sister did not help. Bella liked to cruelly remind Cissa that Ginevra was the same age their daughter would have been, had she survived. She ridiculed Cissa for her inability to have children when she herself had produced none. There was a running joke among the Death Eaters that Bellatrix Lestrange would only fall pregnant if she found a Time-Turner and went back in time to fornicate with the Dark Lord when he was still human.

Bella may not have been sexually interested in anyone other than her master, but she was jealous that her husband and brother-in-law preferred a young witch like Ginevra to an insane sadist like herself, often projecting her own insecurities when she taunted her sister. As a result of Bella's frequent taunting, even though Lucius had never given Cissa cause to question his commitment to her, she did not believe he was completely unaffected by the Weasley chit.

The fact of the matter was that things had been strained between him and his wife ever since he returned from Azkaban. No doubt, prison changed him a great deal, but it did not take away his ability to read his wife's feelings. He could see she resented having a Halfblood take over their home and their lives, but she also resented him for allowing it. Unfortunately, by then, Lucius was a fugitive from the law, with no power or influence left. He was in no position to refuse the Dark Lord anything.

Lucius had many regrets, the greatest of which was how his choices had shaped Draco's life. Instead of teaching his son to appreciate what they had, he had raised him to regret that the Dark Lord had been defeated before their dreams were realised. Now, he wished he had sheltered his son from the Death Eaters and not idealised them. He knew Draco was only trying to prove himself to him when he volunteered to join the Death Eaters. Cissa had strongly opposed Draco's decision to join at such a young age. Lucius wished he had listened to his wife at the time, perhaps then he would not be in this position today, where he was expected to help them kill his son.

Greyback had surmised that Draco was hiding in Uganda. The werewolf claimed to have imprisoned the Mudblood at their post near Uagadou at some point before she escaped. This property was recently attacked and the mad dog seemed convinced that it was an act of revenge committed by Draco since it took place after he left from Bleidd. It did not make sense to Lucius, because the way Greyback was telling it, it sounded like Draco was in love with the girl.

He had not been pleased with the idea of his son sullying himself to get Potter's Mudblood pregnant, but Lucius believed that, like him, Draco had pushed past his personal disgust to do what was needed to hurt Potter. It sickened him to think Draco may truly care for the Mudblood and the half-breeds he had fathered with her, but it also gave him cause for concern. Even if he somehow ensured Draco lived, if his son was anywhere as devoted to his new family as Lucius had been towards Narcissa and Draco, his boy was in for a world of grief considering what they planned to do.

Greyback had figured out that Theo was working with Draco so Lucius had employed a few of his own personal resources to keep an eye on young Nott. He had been suspicious of the boy's sudden rise within their ranks, but later dismissed his thoughts as paranoia. A huge error on his part. Knowing how Severus had deceived them for years, he should have remembered that it pays to be mistrustful of your friends.

By spying on Theo, his investigators were able to trace the address of the floo used by Draco and discovered the property was leased in the name of one Draco Loupgarou by one of the Malfoy house-elves.

Greyback had already hesitantly confessed to using Mipsy to do his dirty work. Lucius did not care about that—the creatures existed to serve after all—but he was angry that the Lestranges would dare to barter his elf for an opportunity to abuse the witch carrying his child. However, Rabastan and Rodolphus were lower on the list of Lestranges with whom he had an axe to grind. In the case of Bellatrix Lestrange, Lucius was biding his time, waiting for the opportunity to finish her using the exact method she almost killed Draco with.

Over the years, he was able to look past the Dark Lord's abuse of Draco for failing to kill Dumbledore and turning him into a half-breed for his inability to kill Potter. All that mattered was that Draco got to live. In the world they had created, simply being allowed to live was the greatest mercy. The Dark Lord was a sadistic, homicidal maniac—and not even a Pureblood!—but he was also as good as immortal. Even if there was a chance Harry Potter could defeat the Dark Lord, Lucius could not defect to the other side.

The Wizengamot had tried Lucius for his activities during the previous Wizarding War. Unlike many of his peers, he had not only escaped imprisonment by claiming to have acted under the influence of the Imperius but also retained his social standing in the aftermath. This time around there would be no avoiding punishment. It would be the Kiss for him and Azkaban for his family.

Lucius did not want to continue supporting the Halfblood despot who had wilfully polluted the Malfoy lineage by turning the true heir into a werewolf, but he had no other choice. In order to protect his wife and ensure his own survival he needed to safeguard his position within the Death Eater ranks, which he could only do by resorting to extreme cruelty and terror.

He was angry with young Theo for exposing Draco. If not for him, they would never have known where Draco was hiding. Nevertheless, Lucius still had a plan to save his son. If he could bring back Ginevra Weasley and Draco's sons, and kill the escaped pack of werewolves hiding in Uganda, there would be no reason for anyone to go after Draco.

It was a good plan, one that would have worked, if not for his damned house-elf.

* * *

Fenrir Greyback was angry, deceived again by one of his own. This particular betrayal was the worst as it came from the man he had trusted to run his pack.

_What kind of alpha doesn't notice his head beta isn't even bonded with him anymore?_

He ignored the voice in his head. Any alpha would confirm it was exhausting being in tune with the pack's needs and their feelings under normal circumstances, more so when members of your pack were often sent to battle frontlines or used as test subjects in unethical experiments. Fenrir had trained himself to ignore the bonds early on, or he would have lost his mind if he had to feel everything his wolves endured. Sure, it was fun during the full moon when you didn't even need to stick your prick into a warm cunt to enjoy an orgasm that went on for hours, but a few hours of pleasure was hardly worth putting up with the rest of the thestral dung that came with the pack bonds.

Since he generally ignored the bonds, he would never have learnt of Gunnolf Olsen's treachery if not for a spot of luck and the current size of his pack. With barely fifty of them now, his pack was the smallest it had been in years so it became a lot easier to notice the changes in his beta's behaviour.

Fenrir had forgotten that after imprisoning the Mudblood in New Wolf Castle—the name he had decided to call the Death Eater base in Uganda when he eventually took over the place—he had returned with her satchel. Low on supplies, ever since Draco and his pack of thieves had wiped him clean, Fenrir searched the satchel for anything useful. He wasn't disappointed. There was a good amount of dittany and some health potions among other things, but most interesting, was a scrap of parchment he found in there.

Now Fenrir may not have been the sharpest knife in the block but even he could see that the words must have some significance. It couldn't have been just some piece of pretty writing if the Mudblood was holding onto it while escaping. He spoke to members of his pack to see if they had any idea about it. Except for Gunnolf, every werewolf who came to his pack from an older pack knew about the prophecy and a couple of the clever ones still left in his pack even reckoned it could be about Draco's pups. Listening to their reasons, Fenrir had to agree.

For whatever reason, he happened to speak to his pack members individually, and a good thing too or he may not have noticed Gunnolf's attempt to lead him astray. He knew something was fishy when right away Gunnolf pretended not to recognise the handwriting on the parchment—bit hard to swallow since even he could tell it was Draco's writing, having seen it often enough on schedules and such.

He tried to order Gunnolf to tell him the truth, but he could see his beta wasn't really feeling any compulsion to act. It took Fenrir great self-control to bite his tongue and play along as if everything was fine. He checked his pack bonds as soon as Gunnolf left the room and Luna damn the man because while everyone else's bond was in place, Gunnolf's was gone.

Fenrir was livid. Obviously, Gunnolf had bonded with that disloyal, pack-stealing cunt, Draco. He was probably here to spy on him or murder him in his sleep. He kept a close watch over him the next couple of days, acting as crazy and erratic as he could, hoping he would contact Draco. He didn't. He only ever contacted Theodore Nott, the most recent addition to the Dark Lord's inner circle...

...the same Theodore Nott, who was once been best friends with Draco Malfoy.

Gunnolf, Draco, Nott Jr. and the Mudblood—they were all connected somehow. The plot against him ran too deep. He needed help.

Fenrir called Lucius Malfoy, who came promptly this time and didn't keep him waiting like the time after Draco escaped, when Malfoy had refused to even see him.

_Uppity prick thinks he's better than me._

He told Malfoy what he had found out, but did not mention the prophecy, which was strictly pack business.

Fenrir wanted the go to New Wolf Castle to check if there was anything else left behind, maybe even go looking for the Mudblood. He was healed now and, unlike last time, prepared for her.

_Fuckin' cunt took me by surprise and nearly killed me, she did. Gonna have to teach that bitch a lesson._

He tried to arrange a portkey but was informed that the base there had been destroyed... the day Draco left from Bleidd.

It didn't take a genius to connect the two events; Draco was in Uganda looking for his bitch. The thought filled him with glee because he knew Draco wasn't going to find her.

_No way that bitch's still bonded with him after the number of times I shot my cum in her. Without a bond, Luna herself would have to lead that brat to his Muddy whore... Of course, as her sire, I won't have the same trouble finding her—Bet the bitch hasn't figured that out yet._

Involving Malfoy ended up being a good idea after all. He used his galleons to have Nott's pup watched and was able to get Draco's exact location from his floo address. The scheming bastards had somehow figured out a way to talk over the floo without there being a record of it in the Ministry. He wasn't concerned about Nott junior's treasonous activities—that was a problem for the Death Eaters to sort out—he was just happy to learn exactly where in Uganda that rat, Draco, was holed up.

They would need to be careful though, as they had to get Ginny Weasley and Draco's pups out unharmed. Malfoy didn't care for his grandsons, but Fenrir did. Even if they weren't lycans, like some members of his pack thought they could be, they were definitely special because of the Dark Lord's interest in them.

_Be honest, you want them 'cause you'd like to raise them as your own._

The voice in his head wasn't wrong. It was a good kind of weird, to be able to hold a child and not want to eat them. He thought of Wilbur and Martin with a great deal of fondness. Why did such miracles come from Draco and not himself!

Malfoy summoned Draco's personal elf, who was still bound to his household. The snivelling creature performed every task asked of him yet refused to bring Draco's babies to them. Malfoy was creative with his punishments, having learnt the art of disciplining from his own master, but no matter what was done to it, the pathetic thing would not open the floo to the house in Lake Victoria or provide them with any useful information about Draco.

They also questioned Gunnolf, who proved even more stubborn. Fenrir tortured his former beta while Malfoy used legilimency on him but they ended up killing him before they could break into his mind. Fenrir admired the strength shown by Gunnolf in the moments before he passed away. Turned out he had been wrong about his head beta all along and he acknowledged as much.

_Gunnolf would have made a great alpha._


	47. Chapter 47

Hermione was running—fast—as though her life depended on it. She was being chased through the forest. Why did her wolf want her to run? Why not stop and confront the thing chasing her? There was no time to think. Her heart was ready to burst out of her chest, but she could not stop running. The creature was quickly gaining on her. Panting, she forged ahead, moving slower as she weaved a path between the trees, making it harder to track her by her scent alone.

The weather was warm despite the time of night. Why was it so warm, so hot? Moonlight filtered through the trees. It wasn't a full moon, not tonight, but it was beautiful nonetheless. She knew this forest, recognised the trees. She had run through them before but didn't remember them looking so lovely. She looked up and admired the forest canopy. The creatures of the night could be heard faintly in the distance. Then the creature growled, an inhuman sound that made her skin tingle and pulse sprint.

She chided herself for getting distracted by the scenery and ran faster, crashing into bushes and foliage in her mad dash to get away. Every instinct inside her demanded she run, not fight like her wolf would have usually wanted to. She barrelled into a small clearing, her momentum causing her to lose her balance and fall to the ground. She scrambled to get back up, wanting to avoid the vulnerability of a prone position, but she was barely on her knees when the beast caught up to her.

Hermione stayed rooted to the ground, her whole body trembling as she took in the sight of the fearsome creature coming to a halt before her.

* * *

The howls of Draco's pack permeated the darkened bows of the ancient forest, heralding their night charge through the columns of trees. No creature dared to challenge their advance, fearing these new two-legged predators in their forest; they did not know that the pack wasn't hunting, not tonight. Tonight was all about getting rid of the nervous energy built inside them in anticipation of the fight with Fenrir and his goons.

A whole day had passed since Draco first received news of the impending attack, but nothing had come of it so far. They were watching all the local spots used for international portkey travel, but there was no sign of Fenrir or any of the Death Eaters yet. The wait was making them all feel a little antsy.

Draco ran ahead of the pack, marking a trail for them when he heard a sound that caught his wolf's immediate attention. Oblivious to everything but the arrival of the new predator in their midst he transformed right away and tore through the forest.

One of the omegas caught a glimpse of the manner in which their alpha took off and grew alarmed. He called out to the others for help, believing their alpha would need back-up.

"Stop," said one of the betas.

The omega looked on confused.

"We need to help him. Fenrir must be here."

The rest had caught up by then. Some were grinning while others shook their heads and rolled their eyes at him.

"Can't you smell it, pup?" asked the beta with a snicker.

"Ah," exclaimed the omega, finally recognising what was different about their alpha's scent.

"Yup. Draco's gone to get himself some," said someone else.

The pack responded with hoots and howls of laughter as they turned around and made their way back to camp.

* * *

Without meaning to, Hermione reached out and stroked the silver-white fur on the chest of the beast before her. It was just as luxurious as she remembered it. The creature stood still, the only movement coming from its nostrils as they flared now and again.

She ran her hands all over his body, drawing a whine-like sound from him. She ignored it and continued her exploration of the wolf.

It was perfect that once again he should approach her as his wolf first. It may have been because her experiences with his human had not always been pleasant, but she did not feel as uncertain with his wolf.

The she-wolf, who had resisted returning to Draco so far, changed her tune the moment she caught wind of his tantalising scent. Her usually ferocious wolf turned unexpectedly playful, letting out a low whine to alert Draco to her presence before she dashed off. She had wanted him to chase and catch her, and now that he had, she was ready for him to claim his prize.

While her wolf restlessly waited to present herself to her mate, her human was not as easy. There was much they needed to discuss first. She needed to tell him about where she was all this time and what had happened to her, what Fenrir _did_ to her...

...just not right now. Right now, she wanted to breathe in his delicious scent and run her hands all over him until she assured herself that he was real and really before her at long last. She wanted him to hold her, comfort her, make her feel safe and loved all over again.

She sat clinging to him with her arms wrapped around his neck and face buried in his scruff, swallowing deep breaths of his refreshing scent. The longer she breathed him in, the calmer and less anxious she felt.

"I've missed you," she said, kissing his muzzle. "Gods, I don't think I realised till now just how much I missed you." Hermione sighed, continuing to stroke his fur. She could feel her fears and concerns melt away.

Her wolf looked in approval at his well-muscled form and teasingly scraped her nails along his flank.

He continued to hold still, perhaps recognising her need to be in control, but let out another whine, echoing the impatience of her own wolf.

Hermione took in a deep breath and mustered her Gryffindor courage before she looked him in the eye and nodded.

...

At her go-ahead, Draco transformed and sat on his knees before her.

"Witch," he said, letting out a shaky breath. His voice was hoarse and uneven when he spoke. "You cannot even begin to imagine how much I've missed you."

Draco showed no uncertainty when he leaned forward to grab her by the shoulders and crush her against him before his lips caught hers in a heated kiss. He had wanted to do this since he found her sprawled on the forest floor, but having sensed her hesitation, he had patiently waited in his wolf form for her to signal that she was ready.

He could not believe they had been apart for less than three months. It felt like a lifetime had passed since they were last together.

One hand slid up the slender column of her neck to hold her head in place so he could deepen their kiss. Luna grant him control, he prayed, because she tasted even better than he remembered.

Hermione's hands greedily roamed his body, feeling the jut of every bone and testing the firmness of every muscle. She pulled his hips against hers, moulding her body to his, expressing her eagerness to have him inside her again. As good as it felt to kiss, their wolves would not be satisfied with just some petting.

"Slow down, witch," he said reproachfully, nipping at her jaw while his hands ran down her back to grab her bottom.

"It's my wolf," she explained breathlessly, tilting her head back to provide him better access to her neck.

"I realised. Quite the feisty minx," he noted with a teasing smirk, which earned him a seductive purr from Hermione's wolf.

"Draco-Draco, I need you," she pleaded, attempting to undress herself without letting go of him.

"I know, love. I know. But you need to slow down."

Draco was struggling to maintain control of the situation, but one of them needed to and it did not look like Hermione's wolf was going to help matters.

She whined and demanded to know why.

"Because of what would happen next. I won't stop, I won't be able to stop," he explained. "I want you so bad ... but you're not ready. I think this is just your wolf reacting," he said, vividly recalling his wolf's reactions the first time he caught his mate's scent.

...

Hermione was crestfallen. Her wolf whined even louder. Was he rejecting her?

Unintentionally, she had asked the question out loud.

"Never. I want you. You can feel how much"—he rolled his hips against hers so she could feel his erection throb against her belly—"I still want to mate with you, but I sense you're not quite ready yet. I don't understand what it is you're scared of, but I'm willing to wait till both, your human and wolf, are ready to be with me."

It was true, it was her wolf who had taken over and was responding to her mate. Her wolf just wanted to be with her mate, she did not care that her human wasn't ready to jump straight to sex when they had so much to discuss first. Fortunately, her mate was more considerate about her desires, reminding her just why it was she had fallen in love with him in the first place.

Hermione nodded and sank against Draco.

He pulled her into his lap and held her in a way that told her he never planned to let go. In response, she melted in his arms. She pressed herself to him in a way she hoped conveyed that she had no desire to ever part with him again.

...

Their wolves wanted to pounce on each other and rut until they passed out from exhaustion, knotted together, but their humans understood there was no need to rush.

They spend hours kissing and caressing, savouring each other while also silently cataloguing every new scar on their mate's body. Every now and then one of them would be tempted to sneak in a quick grope or fondle, but they never let it go too far, continuing to let their passions simmer instead of bubbling over.

The couple sighed contentedly. They would mate, there was no doubt anymore in either one of their minds of the eventuality of their mating, but for now, they were happy just to be reunited with their mate.

* * *

Hermione's pack had finally found Draco's and they sat together swapping stories about everything that had happened since the pack split. Everyone stopped suddenly and exchanged looks with each other.

"Wow, that's—"

"Something."

"Mmhmm."

"Now, _that's_ special."

"Scent of an aroused alpha pair—I'd commit it to memory, except I believe this is going to be a regular occurrence from now on."

There were several snickers.

"Let's not forget, they're a pair of alpha _true _mates."

"Luna definitely favours them."

"And us. First children and now an alpha pair... Our pack is blessed."

There were many nods of agreement.

"Merlin! The kind of scent he's giving off, I'd be shocked if he didn't get her pregnant just looking at her."

There were a few nervous chuckles before everyone fell quiet. Even though they could not see their alphas, they were closely following the proceedings with their ears and nose.

"Too bad Will and Marty aren't here tonight," said someone out of nowhere.

"So they can hear their parents get ready to fuck?"

"No, you idiot. Would've been nice to have the whole pack together."

There were only a few quiet murmurs of agreement to avoid making too much noise. Everyone was straining their ears to hear every rustle and every sigh, to get an idea of how things were progressing between Draco and Hermione.

Eventually the scent and magical energy coming from the alphas got too much for many in the pack, who began to form pairs and leave in search of some privacy. Fucking, it turned out, was just as good as running when it came to getting rid of pent up energy.


	48. Chapter 48

"You've been with Potter the last few weeks?"

"It wasn't like that."

Of course, Hermione would not have been with Potter in the way his tone implied, but that may as well have been the case as far as his wolf was concerned. It hurt that she hid from him. That it was Potter she felt safest with just brought back all his old resentment towards the Chosen One.

...

Hermione cupped Draco's chin and raised it to look into his eyes, smoky grey eyes that usually did a good job of concealing their owner's emotions. Now though, there was no mistaking the hurt in them; hurt she had caused him by letting her insecurities keep them apart. "I'm sorry," she said and looked away. "I was scared. I-I thought you would reject me..."

...because of what Fenrir did. She tried to tell him but failed.

After spending the first few hours kissing and caressing till each was convinced their mate was truly back with them, the couple got dressed to resist the urge to mate. However they did not return to the pack, opting instead to sit and talk, despite the late hour. They took turns filling in the blanks about things that had taken place since she left Bleidd, with Hermione telling Draco about everything except for what was done to her while she was a prisoner of Fenrir.

When she gathered the courage to look at Draco again, his eyes were bright.

"How can someone so smart, fail to grasp something so simple," he muttered under his breath. "Do I need to write you a love ballad to make you understand I'm in love with you, Hermione? This isn't some passing fancy a wizard may indulge in and neither is it about what your womb has to offer me. My wolf, my human... all of me wants all of you."

Hearing the truth spoken so plainly, robbed the brightest witch of all speech. All she could do was nod while teardrops began to fill her eyes and roll down her cheek.

"Why are you crying, love?"

She pressed her lips together, shook her head and shrugged her shoulders. The tears continued to flow.

Sensing her inner turmoil, Draco pulled her into his arms again and hugged her while she wept.

Hermione struggled to hold back the tears. This wasn't the time to fall apart, there were other more important things to discuss and do. She would deal with her emotions later, when there wasn't the threat of an imminent attack looming over their heads. However she felt so safe with Draco—a feeling of almost being at home—that she could hold it in no more.

She tried to show some restraint by crying silently, hands tightly clenched at her sides. But soon her face was buried in Draco's chest, her hands fisting his robes, as she heaved and let out everything she had kept bottled inside of her. Her sobs resembled the pained grunts of a wounded animal as she let go of her anger, her pain and her fears. Hermione cried, clutching at Draco, who remained her anchor in the stormy sea of her emotions.

...

Draco held Hermione firmly, silently comforting her by stroking her hair and her back while her tears soaked through the shirt of his robes. Not a gentle or patient man by nature, he would be whatever his mate needed him to be; he was just so grateful Hermione wasn't shutting him out like Ginny was doing to her loved ones. His heart hurt to see his mate like this, but there was nothing to do, except embrace Hermione and wait for her to conquer her inner demons.

* * *

Bill Weasley was hiding a secret, carrying it around in his pocket since the attack on Malfoy Potions. Unknown to the rest of the members of the Order Bill had risked their entire mission at the factory by deviating from their plan that day.

As a curse-breaker, his skills were only needed at the point of entry. Once inside the factory, while the rest of the team went about the task of setting up the bombs, he was supposed to blend in with the workers. Instead, Bill went snooping around the factory and through dumb luck happened to not only avoid being caught, but also found what he wanted.

Veritaserum and ingredients essential for brewing it were highly regulated, thus out of the Order's reach. They had adapted, coming up with more creative ways to get to the truth like using the water from the Thief's Fall, but some situations just called for the truth potion.

Someone in the Order, someone they trusted, was responsible for his little sister being captured by the Death Eaters. Their investigation had narrowed the suspects down to a list of six people and absent a proficient legilimens or any Veritaserum, the culprit remained unknown and unpunished.

Bill did not know if Malfoy Potions brewed Veritaserum, let alone where it might be stored inside the factory. Deeply unsettled after hearing about some of the terrible things his sister had lived through, he had acted in an uncharacteristically reckless manner, determined to find out who had betrayed Ginny.

In the midst of all the excitement that followed the attack on Malfoy Potions, Bill never got the opportunity to tell anyone that he now possessed a vial of Veritaserum, and after what happened with his mother and Amycus, he reconsidered his original plan for revenge. It would be better to conduct his investigation in secret and based on what he found out, decide what to do next.

There was only one other person who knew Bill's secret, Luna Lovegood. Like most things involving Luna, it was a mystery how she came to figure it out. During one of her visits, Luna stared down at his pocket through those weird glasses she sometimes wore and said, _"There are some nargles circling your pocket, Bill. If you're not watchful they'll steal whatever it is you're hiding in there."_

Howsoever it was that she really came to discover his secret, Luna could be trusted. Besides, he would need someone like her to execute his plan. He had shown her the vial of Veritaserum and told her what he wanted her to do with it.

Luna was known to ignore the Order's security directives related to meeting outside of planned missions; she visited with different members of the Order whenever the mood struck her. With all her quirks, no one would question Luna's motives for randomly dropping in for a cup of tea and asking some questions about the night Ginny and Hermione were captured.

Luna's odd sense of fashion and dreamy manner of speech made people underestimate her, making it that much easier for the observant witch to effectively carry out her interrogations. She had already questioned and cleared two of Bill's suspects, which led to an unexpected problem.

Because of the heavy security around Veritaserum, Bill had managed to only swipe one vial, a miracle in itself, not realising at the time that it only contained enough potion to be used on three people at most.

Luna had agreed to help Bill but they could not concur on whom to question. As a compromise, they decided Luna would first question two suspects picked by Bill while the third choice would be hers. Bill had only accepted because he was certain the culprit was one of the people he suspected. After being proven wrong about his first two picks, Bill did not wish to waste the remainder of the precious potion on Luna's pick—someone who wasn't even on the list of six names the Order had shortlisted!

Since Luna would not see reason, Bill had a decision to make; let Luna do as she saw fit or question Padma Patil himself. He did not want to believe that the soft-spoken Padma could be capable of something so cruel but she looked like the most likely candidate of the suspects left.

Padma's sister, Parvati had been one of the early casualties of the war when the Order first went into hiding. The Death Eaters had launched a surprise attack on one of the Order safe houses. Ginny—and everyone else quick enough to portkey to safety—had survived while her roommate at the time, Parvati, had perished in the attack. For a short while, Padma, in her grief, had blamed Ginny for abandoning her sister.

Things between the two witches became further complicated when Ron began to date Padma; Ginny had misguidedly hoped for Ron and Hermione to get back together someday. How convenient that both, Ginny and Hermione, the two hurdles to her relationship with Ron were both gotten rid of in the same night!

It was a stretch to think Padma had set the trap for Ginny... but not as much as thinking it was Cho Chang, as Luna was suggesting. Cho and Harry were known to hook up sometimes, nothing noteworthy there. Quite a few of the younger single members of the Order had similar arrangements, using sex to deal with their despair over the endless war they were engaged in.

Cho, an introvert to start with, became a complete loner after her parents were killed. She was dedicated to the Order and excelled at intelligence-gathering as well as mission planning, but possessed terrible interpersonal skills. In all the years, Bill had not known her to date or engage in any serious relationship. It was incomprehensible that the aloof Cho could harbour feelings for Harry intense enough to make her go to such extreme lengths to rid herself of her romantic rival.

If romantic rivalry were the criteria, they may as well question every wizard Ginny had dated and dumped during the times she and Harry would be on a break. It was ridiculous to think either Cho or Padma could be the traitor—though it was a little worrisome that the two were friends...

_What if Luna was correct and Cho did set up Padma? _

Bill shook his head. No, this was nothing more than the product of Luna's overactive imagination, just like the wrackspurts and whatnots she went on about. He'd be a fool to squander what little Veritaserum there was to test one of Luna's silly theories.

* * *

Hermione stretched out her limbs, feeling much better after her nap. Crying had been cathartic, but also exhausting. At Draco's suggestion, she had slept while he kept watch. She awoke an hour later feeling more rested than she had in a long while.

She yawned and flashed Draco a lazy smile that belied her excitement, "Can't wait for morning to see the boys again." But she would wait; she remembered how difficult it could be to get the twins to fall back asleep when their sleep was disrupted.

"You'll have to wait a little longer than that," said Draco solemnly.

"Why? I'm pretty sure I saw the pack's campsite not far from here."

"They're not with the pack."

Hermione sat up straight, alarmed. Draco put her at ease by telling her the measures he had taken to keep their sons safe.

...

"The twins are safer where they are right now, considering we could be attacked any minute by Fenrir and the Death Eaters," Draco told Hermione. "Let's first dispense with the trouble coming our way."

"They know your exact location?"

"They do now."

"What do you mean?"

Draco hesitated, worried about upsetting her again when her mood had finally perked up. He gave her a more indirect response, "Werewolves can track the pups they sire... up to a particular range, of course."

Hermione understood.

"Fenrir will have no trouble finding me once he's anywhere near the Mountains of the Moon, will he?"

"There are many _weres_ in the pack who were sired by Fenrir," Draco was quick to reassure her. The last thing he needed was for her to run away because she believed it would be safer for their pups and their pack.

"Oskar thinks Fenrir may still not be able to track us. He's always been hopeless when it comes to maintaining the bonds and he's turned so many people over the years, there's a good chance he'll get confused and lost if he tries to follow any of those bonds now." Draco tried to sound dismissive of the threat posed.

But Hermione wasn't fooled. It would be dangerous for their sons to be near anyone who was sired by Fenrir if he could easily track any of them once he arrived in Uganda.

"Who's watching Wilbur and Martin?"

Draco hesitated once again; it was hard to explain just who Mipsy was and why he could be trusted with the care of their sons. It was even harder for Hermione to accept that the elf who had played the role of her prison guard was the one now tasked with protecting her sons.

...

One question led to another until Hermione had a clearer picture of what Draco's life had been like after she left.

Hermione had already noticed the mottled scar tissue on Draco's back; it looked far worse than the scar crisscrossing the front of his torso and that one was the result of the deadly Sectumsempra curse. As Draco answered her questions, Hermione began to comprehend what Harry and Gunnolf had tried to impress upon her. Draco had never abandoned her. He could not sense her distress because he had been fighting for his life.

Thank Merlin for Parkinson and Nott; Hermione was grateful for everything they had done to save Draco. However, when it came to Narcissa Malfoy, her feelings were a little complicated. She did not wish to disregard Narcissa's role in saving Draco's life or the help she had provided the Order in the past few weeks, but it was also hard to forget Narcissa's callousness towards Ginny, Neville, and Merlin knows how many others. Draco clearly cared about his mother a great deal. For his sake, Hermione was happy they were on talking terms again, but personally she far from thrilled about it.

Draco was going to reach out to his Pureblood connections, his mother in particular, about providing statements and memories for Hermione to submit to the ICW. Hermione believed Narcissa would have been perfectly fine with what Voldemort and the Death Eaters were doing if it had not negatively affected her own family; she was not a true friend of the Order. Nevertheless, if Narcissa testified before the ICW, they would all be indebted to her. With her social standing, Narcissa Malfoy's testimony would carry more weight than all the evidence Hermione had gathered so far.

Draco returned to the camp with Hermione in the early hours before dawn so they could rest before the upcoming battle. Around noon, his ring grew warm.

_Change in plans—L summoned by DL—Mysterious mission in Bulgaria—L not happy._

Draco had contacted Narcissa the previous evening requesting for an update on Lucius and Fenrir's whereabouts. Narcissa had replied to inform him that Lucius had not been heard from since he left for Bleidd one day prior, and now it seemed that Lucius was headed to Bulgaria. Did that mean they weren't coming after him anymore?

When asked, Narcissa replied that she did not know if the Dark Lord's mission in Bulgaria included Fenrir. It was unknown if Fenrir would still proceed with the attack, but with Lucius gone, it seemed unlikely. Narcissa sent one last message, and this one caused concern.

_Call TN—He's tried to call you–Several times—No response._

Whenever Theo firecalled, Mipsy would promptly come to the camp to inform him so he could return to answer Theo's call. If Theo had tried to reach him several times, it was strange that Mipsy had not shown up even once.

* * *

"Finally came back, I see," said Cora, seeing Hermione at the entrance of her tent first thing in the morning.

"Took me some time, but I found my way back home," said Hermione, strutting in with more confidence than she had ever shown before.

Hermione's response both surprised and pleased her. "Hope you have no plans to take off before completing the mate-bond this time."

"I have no plans to take off, at all," replied Hermione and sat down uninvited beside her.

"You've changed," noted Cora. It wasn't just that Hermione was a werewolf now. The old Hermione had abandoned her pups and mate to return to Harry Potter and the Order, but according to members of her pack, this Hermione had left the Order to return to them. She truly was one of them now.

"What do you need from me, my alpha?" asked Cora.

Hermione's jaw appeared to come loose at her sincere show of deference. Hermione took a moment to compose herself and then explained about the task she had been given by the ICW.

Cora agreed to provide her statement, reluctantly. She did not like the idea of involving outsiders in pack affairs, but the Death Eaters were too big a threat for the pack to deal with on their own. They could use all the allies they could get.

While the rest of the pack prepared for Fenrir's attack, Cora spent the rest of her morning with Hermione, trying to explain what she knew of the experiments conducted at Bleidd. There was a great deal of secrecy around the creation of the original potion, but she knew that the Dark Lord had used blood magic to alter the original Fero potion. Draco was among the group of werewolves who were given the altered version of the Fero. Cora suspected Hermione was also given the same when she was first brought to Bleidd.

Cora observed that Hermione struggled to grasp the intricacies of experiments, and understandably so. The young alpha not only lacked Healer training, even her basic magical education had been cut short due to the war. However, Hermione possessed a sharp and inquisitive mind. Cora offered to loan Hermione her collection of Healer reference books so she could work at her own pace to find the answers she sought.

* * *

Draco spent his morning checking on the new additions to the pack, making sure everyone was settling in okay. After he heard from his mother, he shared with his betas the news that the Death Eaters weren't coming but they still needed to watch for Fenrir and anyone from his pack. He then went to Cora's tent to see Hermione.

"Something strange is going on," he said to Hermione after he was done telling her about the change in Lucius' plans. "I need to go check on my elf. Do you want to come with me, or stay here and watch over the pack?"

Hermione chewed on her lower lip. "If I went with you now, I could be leading Fenrir straight to them, right?"

Yes, there was that risk but he also knew how much she wanted to see Wilbur and Martin. Draco kept quiet.

Head lowered, eyes cast down and shoulders hunched, Hermione shook her head. He could imagine how despondent he would have felt to have come this far and still not be able to see their sons.

"For all we know, Fenrir could be on his way to Bulgaria with Lucius right now," he tried to reassure her. "Let's wait a day, if there isn't any attack we can bring the boys and move the whole pack to Uagadou—take up your friends on their offer of sanctuary," he suggested. He had given the matter some thought and it seemed like the best option. "Just one more day, and then we can be together as a family," he smiled optimistically at her before disapparating.


	49. Chapter 49

Draco was appalled by the conditions he found his sons in when he arrived at the house near Lake Victoria. With sunken eyes, cracked lips and soiled nappies, the twins must not have been fed or cleaned for an entire day. Wilbur was uncharacteristically irritable and Martin subdued; the tear tracts formed on their infant faces told of the hours they had spent crying.

Gods damn him for failing to check on his bonds! If he had bothered, he would have known something was wrong with his sons much sooner. For all he had complained about Fenrir, Draco was coming to understand his reasons for ignoring the pack bonds. Being connected all the time could be distractingly overwhelming. It was far more convenient to do routine checks on the bonds. Except between waiting for Fenrir to arrive and Hermione's unexpected arrival, he had not gotten around to it yet.

Where in Hades was Mipsy? It went against the elf's nature to ignore summons or be neglectful towards his charges. Something must have happened to Mipsy, but Draco was more concerned about his sons right now. They were so frail, so still. His heart skipped a beat.

Draco tamped down the fear swelling in his gut. His sons needed him.

* * *

"What are you doing here?"

Oskar's greeting left Hermione open-mouthed. She had come to inform him of her return in person, and for some reason had expected a warmer reception.

"I-I wished to talk about the prophecies," she stammered out, trying not to show her disappointment.

"No, I meant in here," Oskar clarified, taking a step back inside the tent he had been in the process of exiting. "You should be out there with the pack."

Hermione gave him a bemused stare.

"We're preparing for battle and our alpha is away. It'll boost the pack's morale to see you involved in the preparations," he elaborated.

Lips pressed together, she gave him a curt nod and turned to leave.

"Hermione," he called after her. "I am glad you're back."

She looked over her shoulder, into Oskar's smiling face. He set down the bag of chocolate frogs in his hand and held his arms open. She turned around fully and without any hesitation, stepped towards him to be enveloped in a warm hug. This mark of acceptance from the Elder pleased her wolf.

Oskar let her go with a pat on the back, "Let's have that chat when you don't have alpha duties to attend to."

* * *

Draco held his sons, nestled against his chest as if they were the only thing that mattered in this world. Thank Luna, they were finally out of danger. Afraid to leave them alone for even a second, with bated breath, he had worked singlehandedly for hours to nurse them to their current state.

He gently placed his sons in the bassinet and kept watch as they slept, alert to any changes in them. Minutes passed and the steady rhythm of their hearts eased some of his anxiety. They were so severely dehydrated when he found them, even an hour's delay and... He did not want to contemplate the tragedy that might have been had he not arrived in time.

Preoccupied as he was, Draco forgot about the message that brought him to the house in the first place.

The fireplace roared to life.

"Where the fuck have you been?" demanded Theo soon as Draco answered. "I've called you at least three times with no response. I even left a message with Narcissa asking you to call me."

"I'll explain later. Why were you trying to reach me?"

"I found out something," started Theo, still visibly ticked off. "Everything we've accomplished so far could end up undone..." Theo took a deep breath and exhaled loudly. "The Dark Lord's been busy."

"What had he done now? Mother said Lucius was called to Bulgaria."

"He has supposedly planned a whole new campaign for Bulgaria. Only Death Eaters with regional expertise or those who were part of previous missions have been included, which obviously excludes me."

This explained why Fenrir had yet to attack them. "Guess this means the Dark Lord's sent what's left of Fenrir's pack to die in another one of his poorly planned battles in Bulgaria..." Draco pitied members of his former pack. Like so many before, they were going to die senselessly in yet another one of the Dark Lord's overseas missions. "When is he going to learn he can't win a war of aggression in Bulgaria?"

"Unfortunately for everyone, he has learnt from his failures... He's got a new secret weapon to deal with them this time—Giants, Draco," Theo blurted out, "He's got GIANTS to fight this war for him."

"How...?" asked Draco, too stunned to voice his question properly.

"Everyone directly involved was called away so I couldn't get a lot of details. I hear he found a large colony of giants living in the Balkan Mountains." Theo let out a high-pitched laugh, "Turns out giants, not quite as extinct as we thought they were."

"_How_ does he plan to control them? Given their volatile natures, aren't they bound to be a liability in battle?"

Theo's head bobbed several times. "Similar question crossed my mind, so I asked around." Theo hesitated. "I think the Dark Lord's figured out a way to control them."

"Are you suggesting those ridiculous rumours about the Dark Lord conducting experiments on giants—"

"May not have been baseless after all."

"Salazar's balls! What new hell has that noseless bastard created now?"

"I don't know, and it is cause for concern he managed to do any of these things in secret," Theo paused to throw a quick glance over his shoulder. "Draco, what else do we not know?"

Draco shared Theo's worry, but there was nothing to do about it.

"It's worked in our favour so far. He's evidently been too preoccupied with his plans for global domination to pay attention to what's been going on in Britain."

Theo was apparently not in the mood to care about the silver lining. "He **cannot** win in Bulgaria, Draco," he emphatically stated the obvious.

Draco understood his friend's concern. Part of the reason the public and many Death Eaters were finally ready to stand up to the Dark Lord was because they believed he could be defeated. It would damage morale and nip their uprising in the bud if the Dark Lord won in open battle against a militaristic society like the Bulgarians.

The Bulgarians needed to be warned; he had to speak with Hermione and Harry right away.

Given the urgency, Draco briefly mentioned Hermione's return and the evidence she was asked to provide to the ICW. There was one last matter to discuss before he ended the call.

"Did you check up on Gunnolf like I asked you to?"

Hermione had shared her concern for Gunnolf's wellbeing. Her description of the unpleasant sensations she felt before her pack-bond with Gunnolf abruptly vanished had added to Draco's unease.

"I've had my hands full trying to find anything I could about this whole business with Bulgaria. I haven't had the time or an appropriate ex—"

Theo stopped talking; Draco jumped to his feet. Both were startled by an alarm going off in the background.

Someone was attempting to breach the wards of the house.

Draco peered through one of the windows; the house was surrounded by Death Eaters and a few of his former pack members. A chill ran down his spine, but it wasn't out of concern for his own life.

"What's going on?" Theo asked, leaning forward to get a better look.

Draco's gaze stayed fixed on the threat outside. "They've found me."

"Well, don't just stand there like some mannequin—Disapparate!"

"The twins are here with me, and my elf's missing."

While there was enough time to apparate to safety, it would be risky to do so with children. Floo travel on the other hand, like elf-magic, was a safe mode of magical transportation for small children. Draco cast a dirty look at his fireplace. Damned thing was only equipped for communication.

"Surely you can transfigure a decent broom for yourself, if you don't already have one? You used to be pretty swift on a broom."

"There's at least one werewolf outside who could easily outfly me on a broom. And he doesn't have to worry about balancing two infants at the same time."

"You're going to have to disapparate," Theo practically shouted to be heard over the noisy alarm. "Portkey travel would be far worse."

Draco watched his sons; they were so drained by their recent ordeal, they slept through the racket. He nodded in resignation.

"Take care," said Theo before he terminated the call, "and send word once you're safe."

Holding his sons protectively against his chest, Draco offered up a prayer to Luna and disapparated, going from out of the frying pan and into the fire.

* * *

Hermione left Oskar to go speak with Adrian, who had taken on the role of Draco's head beta in Gunnolf's absence. A member of Gunnolf's former pack, Adrian grew up observing and trying to emulate the head beta, someone he deeply admired. Consequently, despite being considerably younger than the rest of their betas, Adrian was well versed in all the aspects of running the pack.

Adrian briefed Hermione on their security protocols and took her around the camp. It gave her an opportunity to speak with everyone as well as get a sense for the camp's layout. They also performed a perimeter check, testing the camp's wards, with Hermione even reinforcing them with a few of her own spells. Within the short time she spent with Adrian, it became evident, what the beta lacked in years he made up for in his knowledge of and dedication to his pack.

On Adrian's recommendation, Hermione next met with Serafina, their beta with the most battle experience. Serafina looked exactly as she imagined a werewolf war veteran would look—tall, muscular and sporting plenty of scars. She easily dwarfed Hermione, yet was surprisingly light on her feet. Though Serafina did not talk much, and was terribly uncomfortable when she did, she taught Hermione the basics every fighter in their pack was expected to follow in order to keep them organised, and as a result alive, in any battle.

It was only natural for the pack to act like a proper military unit. Considering how often Fenrir's werewolves were sent to fight on the frontlines on behalf of the Death Eaters, they had trained themselves and developed the discipline necessary to ensure their survival against people armed with wands.

Hermione joined in the training exercises, hoping to brush up on the combat techniques Draco had shown her all those months ago at Bleidd. She was in the midst of sparring with a group of omegas, when Adrian sounded the alarm.

"One of our scouts has returned. Fenrir's pack was spotted on the other side of the mountain. They should be here any moment now so take your POSITIONS."

* * *

The two packs were merged and split into three groups: combatants, support and non-combatants.

The support group, led by Cora, was made up of a dozen or so werewolves better at casting wandless spells than hand-to-hand combat. They would stay within the camp's wards and offer the fighters medical or any other form of assistance needed during battle.

Their most vulnerable group, the non-combatants, comprised of newly turned or injured _weres_. They, along with Oskar, would stay well protected inside the main tent for the duration of the fight.

Anyone capable of fighting was in the combatants group, under Serafina's command. This group was further split into smaller units they called _sections_. Every _section_ was made up of six to eight werewolves, with at least two _weres_ proficient in defensive magic who were tasked with shielding their _section_ by casting protection spells.

Hermione joined the combatants, taking one of the attack positions. While she had always been better with defensive magic, since being turned, Hermione discovered she could wandlessly cast powerful offence spells with greater ease than even the most basic of defence spells.

Though newly formed, Draco's pack functioned like a well-oiled machine with minimal supervision. Most of them had belonged to Fenrir's pack for years and were used to working with each other; they had also been preparing themselves for an attack from the time they left Bleidd. By contrast, Hermione's pack was mostly pups; like their alpha, they needed to be guided to their respective positions and told what to do before the enemy got there.

The camp sat at a point of elevation at the base of the Mountains of the Moon, with the forest to their northeast. The area surrounding the camp was mostly bare. There were plenty of obstacles in the form of shrubs, trees and boulders, but nothing large enough to offer effective cover to anyone.

The enemy stepped into their line of sight, forced to approach them on foot due to the wards preventing apparition or flying within five hundred metres of the camp. Serafina shouted a reminder to contain the battle within this region alone.

There could not have been more than twenty-five _weres_ walking towards them, with their alpha nowhere in sight. Hermione thought they could easily rush the enemy and draw a favourable conclusion to the battle in a matter of minutes. However, they had been ordered to wait. Serafina was reluctant to give up their advantage of the higher ground until they were certain a second wave of enemy fighters was not on their way.

Hermione bit her lip in an effort to hold back the curses ready to fly from her mouth. Standing around, doing nothing while they waited for the enemy to reach close enough to fire spells at them was nerve-racking. The eerie silence, in particular, filled her with foreboding; she sensed her pack was antsy as well. They were all eager to charge at the enemy, their bodies strained with the swelling tension of a coiled spring. It was blessed relief when Serafina finally gave the signal to let loose.

* * *

Werewolves typically engaged in physical combat, using spells only when duelling with wizards. The use of magic would have taken their enemy by surprise, but it still did not explain their lack of co-ordination and poor fighting abilities, especially when compared to the well-trained former members of Greyback's pack. How could Fenrir's current pack be such a mess on the battlefield?

"Pups, all of them."

"Aye. Cannae be mair than six months auld."

"Weak. Where's the rest of 'em?"

"Quit yer yakking or we won't hear when Serafina gives the next command!"

It was highly unlikely their keen lupine hearing would not pick up Serafina's bold voice, still the cross talking was distracting. Thankfully, it ended, so Hermione could focus on her spell-work instead.

The defenders were winning, hitting many of their enemies while taking no hits themselves. The combatants had stuck to the camp's perimeter so far, but when Fenrir's pack began to retreat, Serafina ordered a charge to prevent the enemy from leaving the anti-disapparition zone.

Fenrir's pups proved to be better runners than they were fighters. Adrenaline surged through Hermione's system as they raced downhill, shouting battle cries, in pursuit of their prey. The high did not last for long. They were less than two hundred meters from camp when, out of the corner of her eye, Hermione saw Fenrir and a second group of werewolves charging towards them. She turned to alert Serafina about the ambush and noticed the _section_ beside hers was staring at something to their left. She followed their gaze to see a third group, of mostly Black Cloaks with a few Death Eaters, rushing towards them from the left.

The relative positions of all the groups were such, they could not return to the protection of the camp's wards before their enemies reached them. Fenrir had cleverly used his weaker omegas to lure the defenders out and flank them on both sides, cutting off their retreat. The anti-disapparition charms were still in place, leaving the defenders no choice. They had to move forward—a strategy that would leave the camp and everyone inside susceptible to an attack.

Serafina shouted a series of commands indicating they were to smash through the enemy lines in front of them before the ambushing parties caught up with them. The _section_ at the centre charged ahead of the rest, changing their formation from a line to a wedge. While their centre pushed forward, the _sections_ forming the left and right wings of the wedge simultaneously defended the rear and moved closer together to end in a column formation.

Hermione, who did not understand any of the commands, took her cues from the beta leading her _section_ to know what she was meant to do. She tried to tune out the panic coming through the pack bonds, just as she tried to ignore the thunderous sound of bodies crashing into each other. Instead, Hermione concentrated on putting one foot in front of the other, not falling down, and casting the same spells as the person beside her. In this manner, soon her _section_ joined others behind the first group of enemy _weres_. Only, instead of attacking the enemy right in front of them, they were moving towards the group of Black Cloaks, now to their right, and attempting to encircle them.

The second group of werewolves with Fenrir appeared to be mostly betas. It didn't seem particularly smart to ignore the greater threat posed by this group to target the group of Black Cloaks first, except... they weren't really attacking the Black Cloaks.

"Expelliarmus."

"EXPELLIARMUS."

"Expelliarmus."

No, they were primarily focused on disarming the enemy, which was smart. Though physically weaker, wizards could do greater damage while risking little as their wands made it possible for them to cast spells with greater accuracy, and over greater distances. In comparison, the werewolves were fighting without wands and most of them could only strike their targets when casting spells at close range.

The Black Cloaks were disorganised and appeared to lack any kind of close combat experience. A third of them had already lost their wands and nearly all were surrounded. They fought in a desperate manner, only adding to the chaos as they accidentally hit one of their own as often as they hit their werewolf targets.

In the midst of it all, Hermione was constantly aware of Fenrir's presence. Over the ripping of flesh and shattering of bones, over the agonised cries and the last wheeze of someone's dying breath, over all the sounds of the battle, Fenrir's taunts rang clearly in her ears. The closer he drew, the harder it was to resist the urge to break away from her _section_ and attack him.

"Helpful of you to come here, Mudblood. Like a good little bitch you led me to these rogues," he said, tearing off the arm of one of the omegas in the midst of casting a Protego.

Using both brute force and magic, Fenrir and the second group of werewolves made quick work of smashing through the combatants' encirclement of the Black Cloaks. At Serafina's command, they fell back using the Black Cloaks as human shields; it did little to slow down Fenrir's _weres_, who did not care if their allies ended up as collateral damage. In the ensuing clash, Fenrir's group was successful in breaking up the _sections_, resulting in complete mayhem. Hexes and punches flew every which way, making it harder to distinguish friend from foe.

Hermione had accepted that they would need to be more proactive than merely defending themselves, if they did not wish to be cursed or punched to death. She was still surprised by the degree of violence displayed on the battlefield. The pack was already riled up as it was going to be a full moon that night; paired with the adrenaline boost from the fighting and the scent of blood in the air, it was nearly impossible for them to keep their violence in check. There would be no prisoners taken today.

This was unlike any of the battles Hermione had fought with the Order. They weren't striking to delay, disarm or capture their enemies. Diffindos were aimed at any vulnerable part a clear shot was available. Throats were slashed, stomachs cut and Achilles tendons severed. Engorgios were cast at people's heads causing them to inflate rapidly and explode. It was blood and guts and war in a way Hermione had never experienced before.

The strain of trying to keep up with the rest of the fighters began to wear Hermione down. It was not as bad when they were fighting using magic alone, but soon as it turned into a melee, she faltered. Nearly every were had switched to hand-to-hand combat as it was quicker to deliver a punch to the mouth than it was to articulate the right spell with a busted lip. Already at a disadvantage due to her lack of training, thanks to her slight build and shorter stature, those fighting beside her kept bumping into her, making her miss most of her intended targets.

The fight moves Draco had taught her all those months ago were better suited to one-on-one combat and useless in the current situation. Transforming was also not an option. If trying to manoeuvre her human form within the restricted space were hard, it would be impossible to do so in her massive wolf form. Furthermore, she was quite likely to accidentally hurt someone from her side and would be a larger, hence easier target for the enemy.

As a precaution, Hermione cast only Protegos so she wouldn't have to worry about accidentally hurting someone from her side. Somewhere between the jostling, trying to stay on her feet, avoid being hit and sticking close to the leader of her _section_, Hermione inadvertently made it to the periphery of the fighting, where she finally had room to move around and a better view of how the battle was progressing.

Everyone on the battlefield was engaged in a fight for their lives. No one saw a second group of Black Cloaks and Death Eaters arrive from the north-west direction of the camp and attack those inside, until someone shouted that the camp was on fire.

They collectively turned towards the camp and saw one of the tents engulfed in flames. The fighting ceased and everyone momentarily froze. The flames were fiendfyre and the Death Eater who had cast the spell was struggling to keep it in control.

_Weres_ from the support group were seen running around, helping the non-combatants escape before the fiendfyre reached them. Hermione's heart sank. There, amidst the fighting taking place in the camp, was a head of striking platinum blond hair. It was hard to tell if Draco was alone, surrounded as he was by the freshly arrived group of Black Cloaks and Death Eaters, but there was something odd about his movements; instead of ducking and dodging, he stepped into the path of many blows and spells. Her blood ran cold when she finally caught a glimpse of the people behind him. Draco was shielding Cora and Oskar, each of whom held a baby in their hand.

Hermione wanted to break ranks and rush to help her family, but running in the open without any cover would not help Draco or her sons in any way and would only result in her getting killed. There was one rule Serafina had told her never to forget during a battle:

_"Keep your cool and follow orders."_

They would succeed in battle if everyone did what was expected of them. When they acted on their own, they disregarded their own safety as well as the safety of those around them and could even compromise the entire mission.

Hermione took a deep breath and reined in her panic before she called out to Serafina, directing her attention to Draco's plight.

Serafina seemed to consider their current position relative to the position of her alpha, as well as the commotion in the camp, before ordering everyone to fall back. Following her directions, they retreated northeast of the camp, away from their enemies. While this move helped them consolidate, it also put them in the disadvantageous position of having to defend while moving uphill.

Another set of orders were called out, of which Hermione understood only one, "Aim at the ground."

The combatants haphazardly hurled Bombardas and Confringos, blasting away rocks, shrubs, or even the ground directly in front of the fighters chasing after them. They did not cause any injuries, but they did create dust clouds which affected visibility and slowed down the enemy. Understanding the objective, Hermione concentrated and released one powerful Bombarda Maxima, knocking many of the frontline attackers off their feet and engulfing the group in a large cloud of dust.

Serafina ordered them to use the moment's respite to re-form their _sections_. By now, the combatants were just as far from the fighting taking place between Draco and the second group of Black Cloaks as the second group led by Fenrir—who changed course once the dust clouds began to settle and were rapidly moving towards the camp.

The re-formed _sections_ were ordered to cut off Fenrir's attack by moving into his path. Once in position, Serafina called out a new set of commands so half the _sections_ engaged in holding off the group led by Fenrir while the remaining _sections_ did an about-turn and charged at the rear of the troops attacking the camp.

It was mostly Death Eaters in this second group of non-werewolves. Despite being more organised and experienced than the first group of non-_weres_ they could not hold on to their formation under the two-pronged attack. They were attacked from the front by the non-combatant and support groups, led by Draco; and attacked from behind by half the combatants, including Hermione.

The closer she got to Draco and her sons, the more Hermione was tempted to run to their aid. It would not help and would only add to the chaos, she had to remind herself, over and over. As it was, due to her height, she could not see most of what was going on around her. She had no idea what was happening with Serafina and the _sections_ engaged in battle with Fenrir behind her, neither could she see what was happening with Draco and others fighting in front her. To stop herself from feeling overwhelmed, Hermione cleared her mind of all else, especially the pain and fear coming through the pack bonds. She focused solely on aping the movements of the leader of her _section_.

Draco shouted out some order, surprising her by how close he sounded. Hermione peered through a gap in the wall of people surrounding her. All the _sections_ engaged with the second group of non-werewolf fighters had steered to one side, away from the enemy and closer to Draco. The support and non-combatant groups had also moved closer to each other.

At Draco's command, a volley of offensive spells darted in the general direction of the second group of non-_weres_. It wasn't about accuracy, but saturation; they were attempting to inundate their enemy with a barrage of spells to distract them from noticing that they were being forced to pull back in the direction of the fiendfyre. In a matter of minutes, the entire second group of Black Cloaks and Death Eaters was either burnt alive by the fiendfyre or fatally injured by the hail of spells they failed to dodge.

Draco ordered the support and non-combatant groups to form into _sections_ as well and turn their attention towards the main battle, taking place between Fenrir's and Serafina's troops. Both sides pushed and shoved against the other's formation, with neither group succeeding in penetrating the opposition.

Draco led the charge in an oblique attack, followed by the combatants. The non-combatants, who had stood besides Draco and fought only minutes ago, fell behind so they were in the tail end of the column formed by the _sections_.

Draco made the confusing choice to direct the charge at the cluster of enemy fighters on the right, even though it was the enemy's centre that was successfully holding back the _sections_ under Serafina's command. His reasons soon became clear.

The right wing of Fenrir's motley group of werewolves, Black Cloaks and Death Eaters had comprised of their weakest fighters, who collapsed under the very first wave of Draco's attack. Instead of countering, these fighters attempted to retreat by backing into their centre. Due to them carelessly bumping into their own people, the tight formation of the stronger fighters in the centre was ruined.

Draco did not force his army into the thick of the fray to chase the retreating fighters. Instead, he ordered them to run around, driving the scattered group of Fenrir's fighters, closer and closer, together. While the _sections_ led by Serafina continued to engage Fenrir's fighters, the rest tried to herd the enemy, leaving them little room to use their limbs effectively.

Once their _sections_ had the enemy close to surrounded, Draco called out orders for Serafina and her troops. Hearing their alpha's commands, they briefly stopped fighting to look around them before switching tactics. Instead of actively engaging the enemy in a fight, Serafina's troops used defensive spells to facilitate their movement towards the outer edges of the mass of bodies fighting.

Under Draco's leadership, pack members dodged blows and fired spells to provide cover to the combatants trying to break free from the crush, while simultaneously constricting the movements of Fenrir's troops by closing in on them.

...

A veteran of many wars, Fenrir should have been able to pre-empt and counter any move of Draco's. Anyone with battle experience would have known to avoid the trap of encirclement, yet Draco was going to pull it off for the second time in the same battle.

The Fenrir in battle that day was nothing like the grand victor of the Pack Wars. Every other strategy was abandoned in favour of psychological warfare, carried out through taunts and acts of savagery. Fenrir gouged out and ate eyes; tore out limbs of one, to pound the life out of another; and he shoved ripped off scalps down the throats of his enemies. All in vain. As former members of his pack, his enemies were used to Fenrir's cruel way; they remained unfazed. If anything, it solidified their resolve to defeat Fenrir.

On the other hand, Greyback's gruesome displays had the Black Cloaks ready to tuck tail and run. They had marched into battle on the orders of Lucius Malfoy, second in command to the Dark Lord himself. They were ordered to accompany Greyback and ensure he brought back a pregnant red-haired witch named Ginevra Weasley and a werewolf with distinct platinum blond hair, named Draco, alive as their prisoners. They were promised a handsome reward in exchange for their services, though they would have done the job for free because of the prestige that came with being recognised by the likes of Lord Malfoy.

In their hope to impress Lord Malfoy—and possibly be elevated to Death Eater status—the Black Cloaks had even been willing to take orders from the half-breed Greyback. However, having never participated in any of the wars or allowed to attend any of the Death Eater Revels, they had no idea what they were getting themselves into. They were horrified by both, Greyback's displays as well as the brutal reality of the battlefield. The Purebloods had arrived, expecting an easy and glorious conquest of the rogue werewolves, only to realise the half-breeds were going to butcher them as easily as cattle in an abattoir.

Some, quick to see their error in judgement, tried to abandon the fight while they still could, only to meet their demise at Greyback's hands. Wanting to make an example out of the deserters, the mutt dug into their chests and ripped out their hearts. He ate the still beating organ, while the rest watched in dumbstruck terror.

_"Don't even think of running away, you cunts, or it'll be your loved ones who'll be paying the price for your spinelessness... If I don't return victorious with the redhead and the twins, expect the Dark Lord to kill each and every member of your family for his entertainment at the next revel,"_ the monster had shouted at them, spraying them with bits of blood and flesh of one of their own as he spoke.

Sensing defeat, it was one of many lies a desperate Greyback would utter on the battlefield that day. The Black Cloaks believed his threat to be true and this—more than the promise of galleons or recognition—motivated the Black Cloaks to stay on the battlefield and fight to defend Greyback with their very last breath.

...

It took the older alpha some time, but he did eventually see through Draco's strategy to trap his troops. Fenrir issued his own orders, commanding his fighters to attack the centre of the pincers Draco's pack had formed around them.

The combatants had moved right and left to form the claws of the pincer, but the centre of their formation consisted primarily of non-combatants who failed to put up a fight, providing the enemy a breakout point. Draco's futile attempts to patch the opening by redirecting other _sections_ there only further ruined their formation. Subsequently, the fight once again devolved into a melee.

Draco did not show it, but he was out of his depth. Desperate to bring a quick conclusion to the battle, he had tried something as risky as a pincer formation, and now they were worse off for it. He had not been in the right frame of mind since the start of the battle, arriving as he did, right in the middle of a war zone, holding the splinched bodies of his infant sons. Objectively speaking, their injuries were not as bad as they could have been, but it was hard to be objective when his hands and robes were stained with the blood of his pups.

Leaving Wilbur and Martin to Cora's care so he could join in the battle, was one of the toughest things Draco ever had to do. In that moment, he did not care about defeating Fenrir or protecting the pack. He wanted to stay with his sons and hover over Cora until she healed their injuries. However, by then a new group of Death Eaters had arrived, torn down the wards, and attacked the camp itself. He had no other choice. With a heavy heart, Draco turned his back on his sons to defend the camp.

Sure, he wanted Fenrir dead, but when he envisioned battling his former alpha, he had not expected his sons to be on the battlefield with him. Them being present and injured changed everything for him.

Family was the only thing that ever really mattered to Draco. As a Malfoy, he had wanted to make his family proud of him and prove himself worthy of his name and heritage. As a werewolf, he cared for the well-being of his sons, his mate and his pack, only he was not capable of being responsible for so many people. He wished to be selfish, to take his sons and hide, and ignore those relying on him.

Why did he ever think he could be an alpha? How did he ever imagine he could handle being responsible for other people when he could not even keep his mate and sons safe? What did he even know about saving people? That job was for people like Potter.

But he was their alpha, and his pack was depending on him. So, once again Draco found himself unwillingly doing something expected of him, hoping with all his heart that this time it was the right thing to do—that this time he or his family would not be punished for his decision.

After hours of fighting, everyone was exhausted. While his sons were doing okay, Draco sensed through the bonds that many in his pack had fallen and others were barely holding on. With the twilight hour quickly approaching, if they did not emerge victorious soon, he feared they would all end up dead.

"I challenge you to a duel," Draco shouted at Fenrir while fighting two Black Cloaks in his way. Someone or the other kept blocking his path; no matter how many of them he fought off, Fenrir remained out of his reach. "If you win, we return as your prisoners."

He was placing the pack's welfare over his desire for revenge or even his desire to flee with his sons to safety. Soon, the moon would be out. With the exception of the alphas, every werewolf on the battlefield would undergo the painful process of transformation, leaving them vulnerable for the first couple of minutes—plenty of time for the non-were survivors to slay his entire pack.

...

"I challenge you to a duel... if you win, we return as your prisoners."

Hermione stopped short at Draco's words.

_NO!_

_Fenrir is mine._

She would fight Draco, if needed. No one was going to snatch her prey from her. And there would be no prisoners taken either. She would fight or die fighting, but she would never be anyone's prisoner again.

Thankfully, Fenrir was not interested in Draco's offer.

"Give up now, pup," replied Fenrir, not even a little out of breath as he singlehandedly pummelled two _weres_ to death. "Moonrise is only a couple of hours away and I'm expecting reinforcements to arrive by then."

He raised his voice so every were on the battlefield could hear him. "Surrender now and I may spare your life, keep fighting and I promise you a horrible death."

Whether or not Greyback was sincere in his offer did not matter as everyone seemed to be of the same mind as Hermione. Unwilling to surrender, they continued to fight their former alpha and his troops.

Both sides were invigorated by the reminder of what would happen once the moon came out. Determined to finish the battle before moonrise, the defenders became more aggressive and also a little careless, while the non-_weres_ exercised caution, knowing they only had to hold out a little longer to seize victory.

Despite taking numerous hits to different parts of her body, Hermione had somehow stayed on her feet and pushed herself to the edges of the fighting once more. She surveyed the battlefield from her new position, frantically seeking out her sons first. Thank the gods, Will and Marty were still with Cora and Oskar, safe behind a wall of combatants. Not far from her, Draco struggled to reach Fenrir.

As much as Hermione was eager for the battle to end, Fenrir's troops showed no signs of giving up yet. Far from it, the Black Cloaks fiercely defended Fenrir, displaying a surprising amount of loyalty towards someone the blood supremacists would typically look down upon as a half-breed. So long as the Black Cloaks acted as Fenrir's armour, no one could get close enough to kill Fenrir. And as long as Fenrir remained alive, the battle would continue.

Hermione stared at the Mountains of the Moon looming before her and considered calling upon her friends at Uagadou for help. But even if they agreed to help, and arrived in time, they would not know to distinguish the defenders from their enemies. Moreover, once the transformations were completed all the humans would be in grave danger. No, she could not call them.

The battle raged on and with neither side making any progress, Draco looked like he was trying to organise a retreat. She moved closer to him so they could talk without being heard by half the _weres_ on the battlefield.

"What's the plan?" she asked him.

The expression he wore during the brief glimpse she caught of his face brought to mind the scared little boy she saw sometimes during their Sixth Year—back when he had been given the task to fix the vanishing cabinet by Voldemort. This could not be good.

Draco's hands moved in a swift arc to strike the wand out of the hands of the Black Cloak before him. "Uagadou," Draco grunted, dodging a stray spell to punch the enemy nearest him. "Take the pack there. Your friends should be able to help."

"No. We can't put all those children at risk."

"They're going to die if we remain here."

Not that moving was going to be any easier, but she understood Draco's concern. The pack needed a safe place to undergo the transformation and it needed to be nearby as everyone was either too fatigued, too injured, or both, to pull off long distance disapparition.

The cave she had hidden in after she was turned was not large enough to accommodate the entire pack, but it could provide shelter to their injured and more vulnerable members.

"There's a cave in the forest," she shouted. "I've used it before."

"Opening's partially blocked by a pile of rocks?"

"Yes."

"Our trackers know its location."

Draco ducked away from a blow to his head and stepping beside Hermione, he shot a shield charm to block the Confringo aimed at her. Hermione fell into step with Draco; facing opposite directions, they fought side-by-side for some time. With Draco physically fighting off everyone within arm's length, Hermione could focus on casting powerful attack spells. As a result, they were far more effective working together, than either one of them had been on their own.

"Cave works ... Let's move the pack ... You lead the way ... I'll protect the rear ... Wait for my signal ... then, start to run," Draco instructed between throwing punches and blocking hexes.

Hermione nodded in acknowledgement and at Draco's command, the pack began a collective retreat towards the tree-line of the forest.

With time quickly running out on them, it seemed to take them forever to make it past their anti-disapparition wards. Once they were a few feet away from the trees, Draco issued the order to apparate. Those unable to apparate or unaware of the location of the cave were to follow Hermione. Each one would have to make a run for it with only the trees for cover.

Hermione found herself being shoved by Draco, who gave her the signal to run. He had pushed her out of the path of a Diffindo, which ended up slicing into his shoulder.

Even though she was equally bruised and battered, Hermione was stunned to see the curse strike Draco. Forgetting what he had asked her to do, she gawked at the blood running down her mate's arm.

She needed to help him.

She started to move towards him, but Draco stopped her.

"Don't," he warned. "Go—NOW!"

Draco blindly hit at the Black Cloaks surrounding him, providing her the opportunity to run. Hermione was not over her shock yet but forced herself to do as asked. Casting a Protego on herself, she ran into the forest.

Somewhere behind her, the crunching of leaves and twigs being trampled by human feet was punctuated by loud cracks and voices shouting anti-disapparition jinxes. It may have been some pack members who disapparated despite being chased by their enemies. Hermione never stopped, or even slowed down, to confirm any of this for herself. She was knackered but she kept running, using the last of her energy reserves to lead the pack to the cave.

Her lungs burned and her feet grew heavier the longer she ran. A sharp pain punched her squarely in the chest; it made her clutch at her heart, but not stop. If only she were in her wolf form, she could have run the distance without breaking into a sweat. But since she lacked the energy needed to force the change, she remained in her human form, pushing her body beyond its capabilities. Not even twenty-four hours ago, she had run through the same forest, pulse-racing, for an entirely different reason.

Hermione ran all the way to the bottleneck in the path leading to the narrow opening of the cave. Adrian and some of the other combatants emerged from the direction of the cave, most likely having apparated there.

"Anyone—else—make—it?" she asked, breathless and barely able to stand from the shakes in her leg muscles.

"Only a few. I've got the non-combatants settled inside..."

Adrian trailed off mid-response, staring at something behind her. Curious about what had distracted him, Hermione turned to see members of their packs arriving in groups of threes and fours.

"We need Cora here right away. Too many injured. They'll need to be patched up before the change."

Hermione understood what Adrian meant. Though a majority of them had survived, they had sustained serious injuries.

"I'll go," she offered, even though she wanted to crash and have healing potions poured down her throat. Out of the two of them, Adrian was far more familiar with pack duties, so in what little time they had, he would do a better job of organising everyone and preparing for the full moon than she could.

It was much slower going this time around as Hermione dragged herself back in the direction she just came from. There was no sign of Cora, but she passed so many arrivals along the way, she grew hopeful they would all make it somehow.

Hermione rested heavily against a tree to briefly catch her breath. Her head snapped to attention as several growls were followed by a loud wail. However, it was the cries of the infants that send her darting in a panic towards the sound without caring if she stumbled over rocks or hurt herself as she further pushed her already abused body.

Not too far away, she came across a band of combatants, which included Serafina. The group moved in close formation, shielding a pair of omegas who held the twins protectively.

Hermione breathed a sigh of relief. Assured her sons were unharmed and well-guarded, she calmed down enough to notice the stand-off taking place a few feet away.

Draco and three other combatants were engaged in a skirmish with a dozen of the enemy troops. Cora was also there, bent over a halfway transformed Oskar, who very clearly was bleeding to death. While the others fought, Cora wept and frantically waved her wand about, trying to heal Oskar, in vain.

"Forget these mongrels. Go, get the babies," bellowed one of the Black Cloaks.

"There! They went that way."

The Black Cloaks ran in the direction taken by Serafina. They went past Hermione, without noticing her hidden behind a tree.

"EXPULSO."

Hermione's spell slammed several of the Black Cloaks to the ground. The combatants quickly took care of the ones still standing.

"Hurry," she urged. The explosion was sure to draw more of their enemies.

No one moved. Grief-stricken, they watched the light leave Oskar's eyes.

Hermione ordered them to, "Leave him." The sun had begun its descent towards the horizon; there was not much time left and plenty to get done. Hard as it was they needed to accept, "He's moved beyond the veil now."

When they still would not move, she physically yanked Cora to her feet.

"We have living pack members in need of healing before the moon is out, Cora. Forget about Fenrir, the transformation will kill them first," she cautioned the mediwitch.

"Anyone left behind?" Hermione asked no one in particular before they could disapparate.

"Only the dead," replied Draco, his face a hardened mask and his gaze fixed on Oskar's lifeless form.


	50. Chapter 50

At Hermione's suggestion, the group apparated to the cave. Draco was distant and would not make eye contact with Hermione, even though he took her side-long with him.

They found Cora and the twins situated inside the cave. Wilbur and Martin looked cosy in a transfigured bassinet. It had been fortified with protection spells to ensure the twins were not accidentally injured during transformation.

Also inside the cave, were two dozen of their most severely injured pack members who were unlikely to even survive the change. The rest of the pack was outside, awaiting the arrival of their alphas.

Hermione studied Draco as they walked past their betas enquiring about his plan for the next phase of the battle. He still wore his mask, but his eyes, his eyes betrayed his emotions.

Concerned, Hermione pulled him aside. "What's wrong?"

"We should not have come here," he whispered discretely, still not looking her in the eye. "This was an awful idea. Packed in one spot like this—We've essentially trapped ourselves in."

"Then let's turn it into a trap for Fenrir. Whatever happened to all your Slytherin cunning," she teased, hoping to inject some optimism into him.

"How can you be so flippant at a time like this? Don't you see, we're all going to die because I messed up." Jaw clenched, he hissed, "Oskar is already dead... Oskar, and so many others who were depending on me, died today because I _failed_ in my duty to protect them."

The anger suddenly left Draco. He stood deflated; limp hands hanging at his sides, head hung low and eyes squeezed shut like he was trying really hard not to cry. In a small voice he confessed, "I always fail whenever my family needs me the most."

Hermione slipped her hand into Draco's. Intertwining their fingers, she gave his hand a squeeze. "Today has been terrible, but I refuse to abandon hope. I want to believe that together we can find a way to beat Fenrir... that we will live because we have so much to live for."

There was a lot she would have liked to tell him, but there was not enough time to do so. Hermione was scared herself, but her determination to live trumped her fears. If they were to survive the night, they had to act quickly. There was no room for self-doubt.

She raised Draco's chin, forcing him to look at her.

"I believe in you, Draco," Hermione stated with conviction. "We all do," she emphasised with a jerk of her head towards all the eager faces observing their alphas.

Draco looked around him, gulped and looked at her.

She gave his hand another squeeze, hoping he could see in her eyes just how much faith she had in him. She smiled when his hand engulfed hers and squeezed back.

Draco closed his eyes and was silent for a few moments, brow furrowed in deep thought.

"Your suggestion to trap Fenrir sounds like our best option right now," he told her before calling Adrian and Serafina to join them in forming a plan to do just that.

Having spent enough time in the region, Hermione, Draco, and his pack were well acquainted with the Mountains of the Moon. Lacking numerical strength, they intended to use their knowledge of the local geography to their advantage.

The enemy had not followed them to the cave and given the number of times they had run through the forest within the last twenty-four hours, it would be impossible to track them by scent alone—especially with the distracting scent of human flesh and blood lingering in the air. Now, Fenrir could only track them through his bonds with the werewolves he had sired.

Thirty of their best fighters, not turned by Fenrir, were sent away with instructions from Draco. The remaining _weres_—less than a hundred now—stood guard outside, blocking the path that led to the cave. Their proximity to the cave was determined by how long they took to transform; the weakest members were positioned closer to the cave and the strongest up front. As bait, Hermione stood front and centre of this new group of combatants.

...

Fenrir arrived just as the rogues were taking their positions. He had already instructed his troops not to attack, not until moonrise anyway, when they could effortlessly massacre the rogues.

They were probably wondering why they couldn't smell any other werewolf. Draco, the Usurper, must be going nuts trying to work out what kind of ambush he'd planned. Fenrir chuckled. They had no way of knowing he had only brought along the Black Cloaks, who he needed to defeat the rogues.

He didn't risk bringing his pack along. No way they'd be able to resist the appetising scent of human flesh; good chance they'd make a snack out of the Black Cloaks before they'd served their purpose. His wolves were better off where he'd left them—feasting on the corpses littering the battlefield.

He had no need for any kind of sneak attack. Even without his pack, their numbers easily exceeded the Usurper's. Not that it mattered how many rogues there were, when the change hit them they'd all be helpless and at his mercy.

Fenrir stepped into view, staying well out of the range of any spells they could fire. "Draco, I have an offer for you, pup," he announced scornfully. "No one else has to die today if you give me the twins and the Mudblood."

He didn't mean it, of course. Soon as he got a hold of Wilbur and Martin, and their mother, he planned to kill each and every one of the cunts who'd dared to sever their bond with him.

...

"I have a better offer," countered Hemione, ignoring Draco's instruction to avoid directly engaging Fenrir in any way. "Fight me. Defeat me in a fair fight and I'll willingly go with you... but if you lose, your people need to withdraw and return home."

Fenrir did not respond.

"What is it, Fenrir? Can't stand the idea of a fair fight? You needed to abduct ne, like a thief, because you knew you couldn't beat Draco in a fair fight."

Fenrir continued to disregard her.

"I think you're just too much of a coward to fight me. That's it, isn't it? The big bad wolf is afraid I'll beat him again. Did you tell your pack who gave you that scar on your face? Bet they don't know how their alpha tucked tail and ran away after he turned me—"

"You lying bitch! You tricked me that night."

"—because he was too afraid to fight me."

"I'm not 'fraid to fight a pup like you."

"Prove it then. Fight me."

"I'll fight you, you cunt. And when I beat you I'm going to kill Draco and everyone else right before your eyes."

"You'll have to defeat me first. Make your troops swear on their magic, they will leave and not attack when you lose."

Fenrir wavered, confirming he had no intention to live up to his end of any deal they made.

"You're a thief, a coward, and a liar," she spat angrily at him.

The moon slowly peeped out. Fenrir tilted his face to the sky and flashed a toothy grin.

"I'm also going to be your mate in a few minutes, I am. No potion for you this time, Mudblood. I'll be using Draco's blood to lube you up," he told her before transforming into his wolf and retreating behind his troops.

...

Under the moonlight, Hermione easily changed into her wolf despite being too exhausted to do so a short while ago. She looked sideways, to where Draco's white wolf stood. Nostrils slightly flared, he was staring intensely at her. His rapidly growing organ demonstrated how eager his wolf was to claim her. But now was not the time for it.

The black wolf yipped and cocked her head in the direction of the Black Cloaks.

The sight of their enemies approaching served as a sobering reminder of their priorities. The white wolf shook off his lusty thoughts and took up an attack stance. He began to growl, soon joined by Hermione's black wolf. Their packs, still mid-transformation, accompanied their alphas in making as inhuman a sound as they possibly could to intimidate their enemy.

Their tactic worked, but only partially. The Black Cloaks trembled with fear, but did not retreat.

The pack held the line by spreading themselves such that the enemy could not go around or past them. As they would be vastly outnumbered when the moon came out, Draco wanted to avoid an all-out fight in the initial stage. They would wait for their enemy to come to them, past the bottleneck in the access path, thereby limiting the number of people able to attack them all at once.

The Black Cloaks came charging at them, wands blazing—wands, some had most likely lifted off their fallen comrades after their own wands were destroyed that day. They smartly kept away from the alphas, targeting the _weres_ still in the midst of their change.

The alpha pair worked together to counter the attack on their packs. The white wolf forcefully rammed into shins and knees, shattering bones; once the enemy dropped to the ground, the black wolf mauled and incapacitated them. Despite their joint efforts, they could not protect everyone.

At the end of the first fifteen minutes, the most critical stage of this battle, more than a dozen semi-transformed wolves lay dead and close to twenty lay severely injured along the path leading to the cave. Nearly every casualty was a combatant.

They could not see him, but a spot within the shadows cast by the trees, not too far from where the fight was taking place, reeked of Fenrir. They needed to draw him out somehow and separate him from the Black Cloaks. Fenrir could be bested in a one-on-one fight, but he was untouchable while he hid behind the wizards.

...

Fenrir refused to walk into the trap the Usurper had set for him. What kind of a fool did they take him for; did they really expect him to fall for such an obvious ruse? The path leading to where the rogues were fighting the Black Cloaks narrowed, with most of region obscured by trees and boulders. He could smell the rats, hiding just to the right of where the fighting was taking place. None of the Black Cloaks bothered with that direction, so that must be the cave some of his pack had overheard the Usurper and the Mudblood talk about on the battlefield. Fools thought they could lure him into an ambush. Ha! He wasn't falling for it.

As the fighting progressed, most of the rogues attacked and retreated, drawing his troops further in and closer to the cave. However, some of the Black Cloaks had succeeded in separating the Mudblood from the Usurper and the rest of the rogues. Not only was she moving in the wrong direction, away from others, but she was thrashing about wildly to fight off the spells thrown at her. When she was a little closer he noticed the blood dripping down her brow and into her eye. It must've left her with quite the blind spot. No wonder she was struggling to dodge the spells thrown at her.

The grey wolf joined the humans in stalking the Mudblood. They chased her down the path to a clearing dominated by a rock overhang. It was a dead-end. Even if the Mudblood were in any state to do so, flying was out of the question due to the rocky protrusions of the overhang.

The Mudblood staggered a few paces, stumbled, and fell. The Black Cloaks ignored her and quickly set up anti-disapparition wards. They had her completely trapped.

Changing into his human form, Fenrir ordered the Black Cloaks not to attack and make way for him. The dimwits didn't know, he had no desire to kill the Mudblood; she was far more valuable to him alive. Oh, how it excited him to see the Mudblood cornered and then prone on the ground. He couldn't wait to mate with her and sire many children!

Having children of his own, Fenrir had come to realise, was something he desired more than everything else. More than being recognised as a superior by the snooty Purebloods... even more than finally being considered worthy of the Dark Mark.

The Mudblood howled, not a pained cry; it was a signal because a group of rogues he recognised as some of the best fighters flew in from behind the Black Cloaks, blocking their exit. The Black Cloaks had two choices now, defend themselves against the attack on their rear or protect him. Under assault, they chose the former.

The black wolf's face twisted into the approximation of a smile. Curse them all, he had played right into their hands.

An infuriated Fenrir charged at the black wolf as she was getting up and landed a skull-rattling kick—he needed her alive, not conscious, to knot with her. It was satisfying to watch the black wolf fall to the ground, genuinely disoriented this time. He slammed his foot into her rib cage, not stopping after one kick.

Right leg. Left leg.

Right leg. Left leg.

He alternated between both legs to kick her repeatedly with enough force to lift her body off the ground, enough force to break the dire wolf's bones.

...

Fenrir's kicks hit Hermione with the force of a wrecking ball, transforming her body into a limp bag of meat and bones. She had to get away from his assault before she bled to death from internal injuries.

In her wolf form, she could have easily borne Fenrir's thrashing, if hours of fighting had not already drained her of her strength. Unlike Draco and the other werewolves from Fenrir's former pack, Hermione's wolf, though naturally strong, had not trained to build the kind of endurance needed to sustain herself through such prolonged fights. The kick to her head made things worse, causing a ringing in her ears louder than the sounds of the battle taking place around her.

Pain exploded in her chest when she tried to draw in a breath. Only then did Hermione realise that the distant sound of cracking ribs had come from within her own body.

"I don't want to kill you, Mudblood," Fenrir paused to assure her. "You can make this a lot easier on yourself by submitting to me. You've done it before," he whispered seductively to her, "you know it's not hard."

_NEVER._

_Never again!_

She would never willingly mate with Fenrir and she would rather die than be taken against her will again. Hermione wanted to yell at Fenrir but she was in too much pain to even growl in response.

Hermione stared defiantly at Fenrir; she would not yield to him. Just as she resigned herself to death at Fenrir's hands, her would-be killer flew backwards. It took a few moments to process what was happening, so when several spells came shooting at her, Hermione braced herself. Only, the pain never came. There was just the sting of her magic resurging within her and repairing her body.

Tears clouded her vision but Hermione could make out four wolves standing around her. Her pack! Sensing their alpha's distress, they had come to her aid. Unfortunately, they paid a steep price for healing their alpha.

"Pathetic!" Fenrir snickered. He wasn't looking at her. "How any of you weaklings ever survived in my pack is a mystery!" Fenrir mockingly addressed one of Hermione's saviours right before he snapped the wolf's neck with great ease. Fenrir dropped the lifeless body, where it joined three others besides his feet.

In all her years as a member of the Order, despite having fought in many life-or-death situations, Hermione had never actively killed anyone. Even during the battle, though she had delivered many a mortal wound, she had not aimed to kill any of her attackers. But watching Fenrir kill her wolves—wolves she was meant to protect, wolves who had saved her life—broke something inside her. Hermione's humanity abandoned her as she became consumed by a hunger for blood and vengeance.

...

The she-wolf launched herself at Fenrir, using her head to deliver an uppercut to the chin that flung him backwards, into the trees. She ran after him, catching up just as he cancelled the anti-disapparition jinx. Before he could disapparate, the she-wolf pounced on Fenrir, claws extended.

With her front paws, the she-wolf latched onto Fenrir's shoulders. Jaws opened wide, she used her fangs to tear out Fenrir's throat, causing him to eventually choke on his own blood and die.

Unrestrained in every manner, for the first time since she was turned, the she-wolf succumbed to her bloodlust. She ripped out chunks of Fenrir's flesh and consumed it, without caring she was cannibalising one of her own kind.

The gruesome sight of Greyback's mangled corpse being chewed up by the ferocious-looking dire wolf struck terror in the hearts of not only the Black Cloaks, but also the wolves, who backed away in fear even as they howled in celebration of Fenrir's death.

News of Fenrir's death was quick to spread, leaving the Black Cloaks worried about how this would impact them. They had failed in their mission, which, according to Greyback's threat, meant the worst kind of death for their loved ones. Some of the smarter ones thought of ways in which they could mitigate the impending disaster and figured Lord Malfoy may be persuaded to intervene on their behalf if they accomplished his goal for this mission.

There had been no sign of any witch, definitely not any pregnant redhead. However, they had seen the platinum blond werewolf many times as he led the beasts during the battle. After the moon came out they noticed the white wolf, who on closer inspection, turned out wasn't actually white, but the same shade of platinum blond as his hair in his human form.

The white wolf was defending a group of injured omegas when he was caught off-guard by some of the Black Cloaks. Draco had been prepared for a lot of things to happen during this battle, being taken away as a hostage by the enemy was not among them.

After Fenrir's death and Draco's abduction, every Black Cloak who did not have the good sense to flee was killed by the werewolves. By midnight the battle concluded; the pack had won. But with one alpha captured, the other gone rogue, half the pack dead and more than a quarter critically wounded, it was a hollow victory.

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AN: thank you ephsbell, because of your reviews this fic finally has more reviews than it does chapters.


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